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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23686876">From Eden</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenior/pseuds/Demenior'>Demenior</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Black Sails</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous Relationships, Angst and Romance, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Charles Vane Lives (Black Sails), Domestic, Everybody Lives, F/M, Falling In Love, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miranda Barlow Lives, Miscommunication, Multi, Mutual Pining, POV Alternating, POV Outsider, Polyamory, Possessive Captain Flint | James McGraw, Self-Worth Issues, Slice of Life, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Thomas Hamilton Lives</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-16</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 16:56:00</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>51,370</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23686876</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Demenior/pseuds/Demenior</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>James leaves London, disgraced and alone. News finds him, in Nassau: Thomas and Miranda have died. Captain Flint is born in brine, blood and grief. Ten years later Nassau is a free colony. Flint has never been closer to winning his war. </p>
<p>The unthinkable happens. </p>
<p>Thomas and Miranda walk into the room.</p>
<p>or </p>
<p>Flint has been on his own for 10 years. He's the avatar of darkness and savagery. An unlovable, feral monster. He's their James. And look what he's made of himself.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Captain Flint | James McGraw &amp; John Silver, Madi/John Silver, Miranda Barlow/Captain Flint | James McGraw/Thomas Hamilton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>106</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>137</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I binged the show and desperately needed a happy ending for this trio. And also I'm a slut for people wondering if they're worthy of being loved, and crying about it lol. </p>
<p>I tried to keep everything as close to canon as I can recall, though, Billy and Gates confronting Flint about Miranda's letter no longer is a sub plot so we'll all have to imagine another reason why Flint shoved Billy off the ship lol. </p>
<p>In any case, this is the story of "It's been 10 years and Flint doesn't know if he's allowed to be loved after all the things he's done"</p>
<p>This story is set in a vaguely mid-season 4 timespace. I try to give little details about how minor changes happened that were slightly different from the show, but for the most part, just roll with it lol. </p>
<p>I originally intended this to be ~5k of introspection and a little bit of crying and then some kissing, but it's twice that length and still growing.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>John Silver oversees the goods as they’re unloaded from the ship. It’s an important task, one he should be doing, but he also feels ridiculous just watching other men do all the heavy lifting, and just giving them a nod of approval if they glance his way. </p>
<p>It’s nice to be on solid ground again. While the open sea is starting to feel dangerously familiar, like home, having stationary footing is a relief to his... condition. </p>
<p>An open crate of miscellaneous items, mostly knickknacks from the crew and captains quarters, is dropped down in front of him. At once Silver spies some leather-bound books, and moves forwards to inspect. Pretentious titles, one that may be in Latin? Or is it Spanish? Either way, Silver thinks any one of these might persuade Flint into a better mood. He’ll have to keep them as bargaining chips, when he might need to pull the Captain off of certain paths. </p>
<p>It’s been a brutal few months. More blood and mayhem than a lifetime should hold. But they’ve elevated Flint’s name from villain, to legend, to <em>nemesis</em> of the Old World, and anyone who might bow to those laws. He’s a boogeyman of polite society, and a symbol of freedom to the oppressed. </p>
<p>Speaking of, Silver muses, now that they’re back in Nassau for a few days, perhaps it’s time he look into finding himself and Madi more stable accommodations. Nassau will be their new home, and his lady queen deserves something worth a little money. </p>
<p>And on <em>that</em> note, here comes the Captain, looking like he could also use a little money spent on him. Which is a terrible joke. Silver’s become privy to the devastating sorrow and rage that makes up Flint’s soul. To the rest of the world he looks like a warrior, ready for battle. With his clothes worn and dirty, his head shaved and his eyes hard, he looks like the man who one would trust to wrestle a storm, and succeed. </p>
<p>Silver thinks he may be the only one to see a man coming apart at the seams, who discovered that an old friend’s betrayal was the cause of his unimaginable loss, and has thrown himself into fighting just so the trauma can’t catch up to him. </p>
<p>Silver can’t say that staying and facing things is his forte. Running is a fairly good solution to him, especially when it’s had such massive effectiveness. </p>
<p>Eleanor Guthrie and her equally frustrating husband run off of the island. England unable to send ships enough to deal with the combined fleet of Teach and every able ship that docks in Nassau. Flint pushing towards the coast, keeping everyone afraid of the dark. </p>
<p>It’s interesting times, indeed. </p>
<p>Flint catches up to Silver, already looking like Silver has disappointed him. It's his normal face, but it feels particularly glowering at this moment.</p>
<p>Looks like Silver will need those books earlier than expected. He reaches down to pluck one out for the Captain. </p>
<p>“Look,” he says, with all the hopes of intriguing the Captain away from whatever disapproving comments he was about to make, “look what I found.”</p>
<p>Flint doesn’t find his charm so amusing. Before Charles Town he might have laughed, or even quirked an eyebrow indicating that Silver’s bribe was working. Not so much anymore. The human mannerisms Flint used to use to try and be sociable were burned away in cannon fire.</p>
<p>“Don’t tell me you’ve stopped reading,” Silver scoffs. He knows it’s true. The Captain lives and breathes the war now, and can’t hear anything that isn’t related to it. </p>
<p>“That teacher fellow might like those books,” says one of the dockhands. He’s new, and by the scrawniness of him, Silver assumes he’s fresh from a plantation and fresh to the island. He’ll make sure to toss him an extra coin before they’re done. </p>
<p>Silver racks his brain to think about the teachers he knows of in Nassau. </p>
<p>“What teacher?” Flint growls, having come to the same conclusion. Nassau is a hive of pirates, prostitutes, and freed slaves— who often turn around and go into piracy. There are no schools in Nassau. </p>
<p>The dockhand freezes under Flint’s scrutiny. Clearly Flint’s reputation precedes him. As always, Silver steps in to be a friendlier point of contact, “Does Nassau really need such a thing?”</p>
<p>“The man thinks we do,” the boy stammers, and tries to appear nonchalant as he shrugs, “he’s new, real English type, but talks a lot about reading.” </p>
<p>“Fascinating,” Silver says, and turns to Flint, “we’ve attracted a teacher! We’re getting civilized!” </p>
<p>Flint turns his scowl back on Silver, and Silver beams with the attention. </p>
<p>“I’m sure you have something to tell me that’s going to ruin my day,” Silver says to Flint, and he pushes the book into Flint’s chest to force the man to take hold of it. Flint’s hands are still dirty with dried blood and stained from firing his pistol. Hopefully he doesn’t ruin the book, or maybe that’ll force him to keep it. This frees up Silver’s hand to go to the pouch he keeps in his coat so he can pass a coin to the boy, while his other hand stays on his crutch. </p>
<p>“So what is it?” Silver asks, and follows Flint off the dock. The Captain pauses a moment, unsure what to do with the book in his hands. For a second Silver thinks he might keep it. A sign that Flint could return to something vaguely normal. Then again Flint as he is has never been a normal man. He’s a man born to burn the world down, and so he pauses a moment, to turn and toss the book back into the open crate. So much for that attempt. Silver will try again, another time. Or maybe he’ll start leaving books in Flint’s bed, as aggressive reminders. </p>
<p>“Council meeting,” Flint says, “Max has requested our presence specifically.” </p>
<p>“Fuck,” Silver groans. As much as meetings are boring, they are equally infuriating because Flint refuses to back down on any issue that he doesn't like. Which is nearly all of them. Which leaves Silver to try and talk him down or around whatever comes up. </p>
<p>“Are you going to behave?” Silver asks. </p>
<p>Flint glares at him, and for just a moment, Silver hopes he sees that brash arrogance that says ‘I have <em>never</em> been well behaved’ that should be accompanied by a lopsided grin. It never appears. </p>
<p>Instead, they’re greeted not three strides later, by an idiot who thinks that holding a pistol on Flint is the way to stop the war and go back to how Nassau was <em>before</em>. </p>
<p>Not the first time someone has made this kind of misguided attempt on Flint’s life, and it certainly won’t be the last. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Conversation dims as Flint walks into the tavern. He scans the crowd briefly— many familiar faces, and also many new, but no immediate threats— before heading for the private room. </p>
<p>A loud laugh stops him, and he waits as Vane stands up from a table to greet him and Silver. He’s tied his hair back to brazenly show the mark on his throat from where Eleanor tried to hang him.</p>
<p>“The fuck happened to you?” Vane asks, and shoves his tankard in Flint’s direction. Flint takes it carefully, trying not to spill while his hands are slippery with blood from both his split knuckles, and the other man’s split skin. Why do people keep forcing him to hold things?</p>
<p>“A man was convinced of the notion that killing me would restore Nassau to the way he preferred it,” Flint says. He drinks carefully around his split lip, and swishes the beer between his teeth to clean out the blood before spitting onto the ground. </p>
<p>“I didn’t kill him,” Flint adds, and nods back to the beach, “it would probably be good to get a scope of the dissent on the island.”</p>
<p>“And yet another mess to clean up,” Vane grumbles, but he turns his head to whistle at his men. He sends a few of them off to go collect Flint’s victim. Vane has a flush to his face that comes from leisurely drinking, which is always seen on him when he’s not planning on many things for the day. </p>
<p>“You don’t look like you’re here for a meeting?” Silver notes. Sometimes Flint finds it eerie just how close his and Silver’s thoughts are, as he was wondering the same thing.</p>
<p>Vane shrugs, “Not very interested in schools, or the building of one.” </p>
<p>“School?” Silver echoes. </p>
<p>It’s just then that Featherstone pokes his head out of the private room and spots them. Flint glares at him, and the man slinks over like a dog with his tail between his legs. </p>
<p>“Welcome back, Captain. Silver,” he greets. </p>
<p>Flint scowls, “We’re meeting about a school?”</p>
<p>“<em>You</em> are,” Vane says, and laughs at them. He steps away to flag down another drink. </p>
<p>Featherstone stammers, “Y-yes, you see, it’s well known that you’re a man of books, and, well, there’s not many men like you on the island. This McGraw fellow was hoping for a meeting—”</p>
<p>“The fuck do I need to talk about a school for?” Flint snaps. The idea that his time is being wasted because this might be something he could <em>like</em> just because he is more well-read than most of the men in the tavern put together? The frustration he feels is almost enough to push away the emotions of hearing his old name. He has no family he can think of that would ever come to Nassau, let alone pretending to be a scholar. </p>
<p>“Max thought it was appropriate,” Featherstone says. What he’s trying to say is ‘I don’t know’ but he doesn’t want to disrespect his employer. Max always has another game behind every reason she does things, but she’s been useful enough to hear her out. </p>
<p>Flint drinks in lieu of a response. </p>
<p>“Would you, um, would you like to wash up first?” Featherstone offers. <br/>“That sounds like a great idea,” Silver agrees, “then again, Captain Flint rolling into a meeting looking like he’s just killed a man is very on brand for your reputation. Perhaps even enough to frighten away a pompous scholar from ever wanting to speak to you again?” </p>
<p>Silver disapproves of his appearance, is what <em>he’s</em> saying. Silver has a lot of opinions about how Flint should be dressing and styling himself these days. He got annoying enough about Flint forgetting to wash or style his hair that Flint just shaved it all off to shut him up. Flint scowls at Silver, and the man has the audacity to grin when any other man would flinch away from the look. </p>
<p>“Bring some water,” Flint orders to Featherstone. He raises the tankard in thanks to Vane, and keeps it as he heads for the meeting. Silver groans a disapproving noise, but Flint hears the sound of him following close behind. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Max greets them as they enter— though her stoic face quickly turns to surprise.</p>
<p>“Hello Captain— oh! What happened? Are you hurt?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t kill him,” Flint says by means of a greeting. He doesn’t sit down because he’d prefer this meeting to be done before it begins, and also because he’d prefer to let Silver sit and take some weight off that fake leg of his. He leans against a side table that has been set with extra glasses and a pitcher of water. </p>
<p>“And I hear I’ve been summoned to be lectured about the need for a school?” Flint finishes. Vane’s tankard was nearly empty when the man handed it over, and Flint finishes it off. </p>
<p>“Yes,” Max says, simple and straight to the point, “Captain, Silver, this is Mr. McGraw, and he’s offered to open a school here in Nassau.”</p>
<p>“Why do we need a school? And more importantly, why do you need our opinion on it?” Silver asks. He hasn’t taken the empty chair set beside McGraw. It’s made the atmosphere in the room rather hostile. If they are as mentally connected as people think, Flint glares at him and wills him to sit his ass down. </p>
<p>“You are— you're him. <em>The</em> Captain Flint,” McGraw says, in a bit of awe. </p>
<p>Featherstone chooses now to enter and sets a bowl of water and a rag on the side table beside Flint for him to wash up in. The blood is tacky on his hands now anyways, so it’s a relief to start scrubbing it off. He has his back to the room as he splashes water on his face.</p>
<p>"Yes, he is the dreaded Flint indeed. And the Captain is a busy man and would like some answers," Silver says. It's only because Flint knows him that he can tell Silver is both mocking and patronizing the man, while still getting to the point.</p>
<p>“I—I can answer that,” comes Mr. McGraw’s voice, “as I understand it, what you are building— what you’ve created here, is a place outside of colonial rule. And you have the, um, the strength to fight for it. As you’ve shown. But the powers that be believe you all to be, well, pardon me I don’t mean any insult, but they believe you to be savages and thugs.”</p>
<p>“We are,” Silver adds in helpfully. Flint can feel Max roll her eyes even without looking at her. </p>
<p>McGraw doesn’t stumble over the interruption, and instead Flint hears him laugh softly at that. Something about the exhale, or the tone of the sound, makes Flint’s shoulders tighten. Wrong. Why is it wrong? He’s unsettled, and he slowly dries his hands as he turns over the sound of the mans voice in his mind. Has he heard it before? Does he know this man? Thoughts of Peter Ashe crawl out of his mind. If this is another traitor, Flint will slit his throat before he can leave the room.</p>
<p>The man is still talking, “Yes, I suppose so, but, um, I was thinking. What better way to prove, to show them that they are all wrong, than to have educated men. And even women, coming from Nassau. High society prides itself on it’s memorization of ancient works and philosophers, that they control the arts and the great thinking minds of today’s age. Many men turn to piracy because they have nothing else to do— and if you are heading towards a future where Nassau, even perhaps the Bahamas themselves, are an independent colony, then wouldn’t it be good to plan for a future where these same men can build a life for themselves?”</p>
<p>It’s fear that lodges itself in Flint’s chest now. Fear that he hasn’t felt in a long time, because on the edge of it, is hope. He turns, slowly, as to not give himself away. His mind is playing tricks on him again, as it used to in the early years after he got news of Thomas and Miranda’s deaths. When he dreamed they would arrive, unannounced, in Nassau and find him. When he imagined seeing them everywhere he went, or hearing their voices in busy streets. </p>
<p>Flint turns, and sees McGraw for the first time. </p>
<p>He’s ten years older than the last time Flint saw him, and he’s grown a thin beard. His clothes are poorer, still high quality in Nassau, but nothing like the fine garments he used to wear, but it’s him. </p>
<p>It's Thomas.</p>
<p>Thomas is <em>alive</em>.</p>
<p>Thomas is <em>here</em>. </p>
<p>He’s taken to talking to Silver as Flint had his back to him, and so no one is looking at Flint until Flint staggers back against the table, and knocks half of the contents over. The bowl of water clatters to the floor, the water glasses fall into the tray with a deafening clatter. </p>
<p>Thomas stops talking and looks at him, curious, nervous, and passive. He doesn’t recognize him, Flint realizes. And that’s a blessing. Flint has to escape, now. He wants to run to him and kiss him. He wants to strangle him. Because Thomas is alive. Thomas is supposed to be dead. That was the truth of Flint’s world: that the Hamilton's are dead, and yet, here he is, a dead man, showing up ten years later as if nothing has changed. As if James hasn't changed.</p>
<p>“Captain?” Max asks cautiously, and even Silver has raised a placating hand. Flint realizes he’s gone for his sword. He drops his hand immediately. Attack? Run? This can't be real. He’d like to wake up. </p>
<p>And then, because this is a nightmare, Flint sees Thomas’ brow furrow, sees him narrow his eyes as he looks closer, and Flint can’t help but stare at him, helpless, as he sees Thomas go white with recognition. </p>
<p>“James?” he gasps. </p>
<p>Both Silver and Max turn to stare Thomas down. </p>
<p>“You’re not dead,” Flint manages to get out. He can’t look anywhere but at Thomas, and at the same time looking at Thomas is the hardest thing he’s ever done. </p>
<p>Thomas shakes his head slowly without breaking eye contact, “We… but you died! At sea!"</p>
<p>It feels like he’s drowning. Flint’s legs feel weak enough to give out on him. Part of him wishes he’d sat down, so he won't collapse in front of everyone, but that would mean he would have marched in and sat down right beside Thomas. And the thought of turning to his left and realizing Thomas Hamilton was sitting beside him is almost worse than looking across the room and seeing him now. </p>
<p>“Perhaps you need a moment to reconvene with your Captain,” Max offers to Silver. Perfectly diplomatic. Flint’s obviously in no state to think straight. He needs a moment of fresh air. </p>
<p>It would also give Max a moment alone, with Thomas equally as shocked, and give her the chance to ask questions that Thomas might find himself answering. </p>
<p>The diplomacy makes Flint aware of the spectacle he’s making. He is Captain Flint. Just because ghosts crawl up out of the past and out of the grave doesn’t mean he can lose his head. He has to be stronger than that. </p>
<p>“I’m fine,” he snaps, just as Silver opens his mouth to agree with Max. </p>
<p>“May we have the room for a moment?” he asks Max. </p>
<p>Max studies him curiously, and her gaze slides back to Thomas. Does she know who Thomas is? Had she expected this? Did she set him up, to use Thomas as leverage against him? Or is this news to her, and something interesting enough to send people to investigate? </p>
<p>“Of course,” she says, and rises gracefully from behind her desk. Silver moves forwards to take the chair beside Thomas, thoughts already bouncing in his mind about all the information he wants to get out of this man who made Flint respond the way he did. </p>
<p>“You too, out,” Flint barks at Silver. </p>
<p>Silver gives him a particularly scathing pout, but for once he does as he’s told. It means he’s made up his mind to stick his nose into this whether Flint wants him to or not.  He and Max file out, and the door closes behind them. </p>
<p>Thomas rises in an instant, up on his feet and towering.</p>
<p>“James,” he says again, nearly a whimper, and Flint’s skin crawls at the sound. </p>
<p>“We’re not doing this. Not here,” he snaps, and Thomas takes a small step back. </p>
<p>“Where are you staying?” Flint asks. </p>
<p>Thomas’ face crumples slightly, upset and confused, but he says, “We have a home. A short ride inland, out of Nassau Town.” </p>
<p>“We?” Flint can’t help but ask. Thomas said it earlier. </p>
<p>Thomas nods gently, “Myself, and Miranda.” </p>
<p>The breath Flint lets out feels more like a sob. He clenches his teeth to pull himself back together. </p>
<p>“What do you need from me?”</p>
<p>“James is this where you’ve been? All this time,?”</p>
<p>Flint cuts him off. He can’t talk about that here, “The school? What do you need of me?"</p>
<p>“Support,” Thomas says, and his eyes are wet as he forces himself back to business, “if we can get respected Captains to support the school, men are more likely to attend. I’m going to teach them to read and write, and to think, hopefully.” </p>
<p>“You come to a pirate haven and want to open a school to make them all learned men,” Flint says, and he almost laughs. It’s so.. it’s so <em>stupidly</em> optimistic that of course Thomas Hamilton is the man behind the idea. </p>
<p>“Well, yes,” Thomas says, “don’t you think they deserve the chance?” </p>
<p>“You’ll have my support,” Flint says, and he pushes himself up off the side table. If he lingers any longer he fears what it may draw out of him, “I’ll come to you after sundown. Put a candle in the window so I can find your home.” </p>
<p>“James?” Thomas recognizes the dismissal, and moves towards him. Flint flinches away. </p>
<p>“Tonight,” Flint reminds him. </p>
<p>And then he flees. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The afternoon passes and Flint feels unaware of most of it. It’s dangerous, to be so adrift like this. Silver pries him, digs at him for information. Flint doesn’t know how to do anything but snarl at him in the hopes that it will drive him away. It doesn't. </p>
<p>“That was Thomas,” Flint finally admits, when they’re alone. </p>
<p>“Thomas?” Silver asks, waiting for further explanation. And then it dawns on him, “the— <em>the</em> Thomas?”</p>
<p>Flint can only nod confirmation. They’re on the beach, a tent set up to look over attack routes. It’s not exactly private, but it’s as solo as they can be right now. </p>
<p>"I thought he was dead?" Silver says. Which means <em>why did you lie to me?</em></p>
<p>"So did I," Flint says, and he feels powerless in the sudden rewriting of his history. Silver hears the truth in his words.</p>
<p>“Fuck!” Silver hisses, and he tries to think of something else to say and comes up with, “fuck!” </p>
<p>“This doesn’t change anything,” Flint assures him. </p>
<p>“This changes everything!” Silver insists. </p>
<p>“My priorities have not changed,” Flint snaps. </p>
<p>“What are you going to do?” Silver asks. </p>
<p>“Talk,” Flint says, because he feels that should be obvious, “and then we’re heading for the maroon colony day after tomorrow.” </p>
<p>“Are we?” Silver asks. </p>
<p>Flint scowls at him, “Of course. That is the plan.”</p>
<p>“And you’re going to go?” Silver asks. </p>
<p>“Of course,” Flint repeats, and feels like now Silver might be the one going crazy. </p>
<p>“The two people you built this war on, that you rallied an entire pirate colony to fight England over, just came back from the dead. And you plan on sailing away from them?”</p>
<p>“They are people I knew,” Flint says, “I don’t expect anything of them, because it’s been ten years since we were last together.” It dawns on him that Silver is the only person in the entire world, other than Thomas and Miranda themselves, who might understand just how much depth is loaded into that one word. <em>Together</em>. “Ten years changes people. I’m not the man they knew, and I don’t expect them to be the people I knew either. I'll talk to them and that will be the end of it. I can't afford distractions right now.” </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>And now the sun has set. Flint borrows a horse and rides into the dark. He follows the main road out of Nassau Town, to where the inland community is growing. His stomach turns the entire time. He’s gone into battle feeling more assured than this. </p>
<p>He finds their home in the last vestiges of light left in the sky. It’s going to be a dark night, with mild cloud cover and a waning moon. A single candle burns in the window. </p>
<p>He ties the horse up front. The land is dry, but not cracked. Likely this was an abandoned home, possibly left when the pirates of Nassau declared war on England. The garden is overrun with weeds, though a corner of it seems to have been turned and weeded. The house itself looks like it is in need of repairs. Steps leading up to the porch are broken, the banister on the porch has fallen. The roof could use re-thatching. It’s not the worst home Flint’s seen on the island, but it’s a far cry from what the Hamilton’s used to live in. </p>
<p>There is a chair on the deck, between the front door and the front window. Stains on it suggest someone once spent their time rolling and smoking tobacco, enjoying the peace of their home. </p>
<p>Only now does he realize his hands are empty. Perhaps he should have brought a gift— wine? Flowers? Money? </p>
<p>A gift implies friendliness, though it means good will. Would that be too forward of him? He can’t march in, expecting them to treat him as if he… as if the last ten years haven’t happened. As if he isn’t who he is. </p>
<p>Ten years feels like a lifetime. Flint still feels bewildered that Thomas even recognized him. He doesn’t recognize himself most days, or, rather, he only sees Flint. James McGraw is long dead, lost at sea with no one to mourn him. Flint’s hands are rough and filthy with blood. They’re not made for kindness, for friends, or… or what he used to have. Thomas and Miranda are smart people, they could see the game of politics and of society and they did not bow to it, but there’s no way they could forgive someone with as dark a soul as Flint. </p>
<p>He forces himself to unclench his empty hands, and knocks on the door.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Miranda grunts loudly as she swings the hoe down on the garden. She’s sweating profusely, and even spares a thought that it might be preferable to do this heavy work without her clothes on. She’s turned over quite a bit of dirt, and dug up more weeds, but it’s all busy work. She barely knows what she’s doing, other than trying to keep herself distracted. </p>
<p>Thomas went to go meet with the pirate captains of Nassau, the ringleaders who overthrew British rule on the colony and changed the course of history. The same people who attacked and murdered their friend Peter Ashe and razed Charles Town to the ground. </p>
<p>There are many other offenses, of course, almost too many to count. All sorts of deplorable acts. These are pirates, after all. </p>
<p>But Thomas went to go talk to them to ask them to invest interest, and perhaps money, in his school. </p>
<p>He’s such an idiot, and if Miranda loved him any less she might have tried to talk him out of it. Pirates don’t want education. They don’t want to be scholars or debate about the morality of the world. They are the ones who live and thrive in the worst of it. To give a criminal a conscious seems like a cruel thing to do. </p>
<p>But Miranda loves him enough to know she cannot stop him, and so Thomas left this morning to go meet with pirates. Including, as he informed her, <em>the</em> Captain Flint. Who was, by some accounts, a well-educated man who was known to steal away books as often as he did gold. </p>
<p>The same Captain Flint that killed Peter. </p>
<p>Thomas and Miranda have long learned that the dead remain dead, and there’s not much to be owed to them. No real justice could ever bring them back. James, murdered. Thomas’ father, murdered. Peter, murdered. So many people around them, gone. And yet she and Thomas live on. </p>
<p>Even still, Miranda knows she couldn’t sit in a room with Captain Flint and not threaten to kill him in revenge for Peter. It’s why she stayed behind today. </p>
<p>There’s a morbid curiosity in her, though. To want to look upon the face of the man who’s become so legendary that people know his name around the world. People <em>fear</em> him around the world. From the New World to the Old, everyone has heard at least one exploit of Captain Flint and the horrible deeds he commits. What would it be like to see a legend in the flesh? </p>
<p>Disappointing, probably, Miranda decides. She swings the hoe down to break a particularly stubborn lump of dirt. He’s probably a short, ugly man with rotten teeth. The kind of man who thinks because he can brawl he should be king of the world. The kind of man who would have no idea what a treasure Thomas is, or even be able to comprehend what Thomas is offering. </p>
<p>She stops again, leaning on the handle of the hoe to support herself as she swallows down her fear. Thomas is in the lions den and she didn’t go with him, because they both knew she wouldn’t be able to hold her tongue. She should be there, supporting him, <em>protecting</em> him. Thomas dreams so big, he doesn’t always know when he’s lost his audience. And his audience today is of men who kill the men that talk over them. </p>
<p>She can’t wait here, she realizes. She has to go to Nassau Town. She has to know that Thomas is unharmed, and she’ll swallow the revenge she wants for her friends. </p>
<p>Just as she stands up to return the hoe to the house, she spots him. Thomas is walking down the road to home. He wasn’t expected back until this evening. </p>
<p>Miranda forgets herself and throws everything aside, and runs to him. </p>
<p>He’s sweating as well, his skin pink and red where the sun has caught him too long. He runs to meet her. </p>
<p>She starts, “How—”</p>
<p>“I have news,” he says, and his eyes are wet. Has he been crying? </p>
<p>“Are you alright?” she asks, and reaches out to touch him. She has to know he’s unharmed. </p>
<p>“Darling, please,” he begs. He catches her hand and pulls her along, marching for home. </p>
<p>“What happened?” she demands. He’s gripping too tight, he’s upset. Did they deny the school? Did they mock him? No, Thomas was mocked for his ideals most of his life. She can’t imagine it would start to break him now. </p>
<p>He steps on the step to their porch, and the wood snaps beneath his feet. Thomas pitches forwards with a curse, nearly falling on his face, but manages not to fall. </p>
<p>“Fuck!” he shouts. </p>
<p>It takes a little maneuvering, but Miranda lifts her skirts and jumps up onto their porch. It creaks and groans under her feet, and while she’d known it wasn’t the sturdiest structure, now it feels like a threat. </p>
<p>She takes Thomas’ hand and helps steady him as he pulls his foot out of their ruined steps and he limps to the door. </p>
<p>“I’ll fix that,” Thomas says as they get inside. </p>
<p>“You’ll make it worse,” Miranda scolds him, “we’ll hire a carpenter. I’m sure there’s plenty on an island of men with ships.”</p>
<p>Thomas huffs a laugh, agreeable, but his mind is so far away he doesn’t seem to notice the barb at his lack of handy skills. </p>
<p>She gets him seated at the table. </p>
<p>“Thomas, what happened?” Miranda demands. There are so many possibilities that she can imagine, so many scenarios, and each new one only grows more fearful and fanciful. </p>
<p>“Sit,” Thomas asks of her. </p>
<p>She does, and pulls up her chair to face him. Their knees are touching. </p>
<p>He reaches forwards to take her hand, and blinks away tears, “I met Captain Flint today.”</p>
<p>Miranda’s heart catches in her throat. He stared down the man who murdered their friend. Who may have, if Miranda has her timelines correct, or maybe because she feels vindictive and needs a man to blame, who may have been the one who murdered James. </p>
<p>“He’s going to support the school,” Thomas says, and it’s almost an afterthought. Miranda digs her nails into his hand as she shakes it,</p>
<p>“But what? What?” she demands. </p>
<p>“Flint, he—” Thomas’s words catch in his throat a moment, and he glances away, “I didn’t— god, at first I didn’t know him. He walked in, covered in blood. Said he’d just beat a man half to death. And I—” </p>
<p>Miranda tightens her grip. Good god, what a spectacle that must have been. A man so assured of his power, of his villainy, that he could walk into a room covered in blood and expect to have a civilized talk. </p>
<p>“Miranda,” Thomas says, and his voice breaks, “it was him. Flint, he— he’s our James. He's alive.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for the feedback! Knowing y'all are out there enjoying this makes it a delight to write &lt;33</p>
<p>I fudged around with Flint's history a bit here, as you'll read. I don't even know if Avery was actually an active pirate by the time James arrived in Nassau, but now he is (was)!! Again, though, for the most part everything Flint went through on the show has still happened and now we're in ~early season 4~ and taking off from there. </p>
<p>Enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The door opens, and Flint’s stoic facade flies out the window. It’s her. Miranda. To know, to hear, that she was alive, after all this time, and to behold her in the flesh are two entirely different things. It’s like seeing Thomas all over again. The world spins beneath him, his legs want to give out. His heart hammers dangerously in his chest, besieged with a weight so heavy he can’t breathe, let alone speak. </p>
<p>Her hands fly up to her mouth as she looks at him, tears instantly making her eyes bright. She has her hair up. She’s wearing clothes more drab than anything he’s ever seen her in before, but it’s <em>her</em>. They take each other in, far longer than is socially polite, Flint is aware, but he can’t bring himself to move. If he goes too fast it’s possible he could disrupt the illusion. </p>
<p>She pulls one hand from her face, and it’s shaking, as she reaches out to him. </p>
<p>“James, your hair,” she whispers. </p>
<p>It’s a reminder of why he’s here. He has to tell them how he died, and let them understand that they have to let him go. </p>
<p>“I didn’t bring a gift,” he says, and rocks back on his heels to lean just slightly away from her outstretched hand, “my apologies.” </p>
<p>“Well come in,” comes Thomas’ voice. It’s like a siren call, and here he is heading right for it. </p>
<p>Miranda nods, uncharacteristically mute, and steps back to let Flint through the door. </p>
<p>He feels like he should reprimand them. They're in Nassau now, and need to be careful what kind of monsters they let into their home. </p>
<p>It’s a nice space. Perhaps it was the home to a small family. There’s furniture still, though lots of things still covered in cloth that indicate the Hamilton’s brought some of their own things, and have yet to finish unpacking. The hearth is lit, and the room is pleasantly warm after the slight chill of the night air. He can spy a hall leading off the main room, to where the bedroom likely is. </p>
<p>It will be a good home for them, if they decide to stay. </p>
<p>Thomas is seated at the table, and has one leg propped up on the chair beside him, foot bare. His ankle looks swollen, and he has a damp cloth resting on it. Flint finds himself fixated on it. He’s hurt? How?</p>
<p>“I’m sure you saw our front steps,” Thomas says with a laugh, though it’s somewhat forced, “Miranda seems to think I won’t be able to fix it myself.” </p>
<p>Flint nearly agrees with him, knowing that the Thomas of ten years ago had no handy skills with any tool except his mind. But perhaps that has changed. Maybe he took up an apprenticeship. </p>
<p>“Could you?” Flint asks. <em>How much have you changed?</em></p>
<p>Thomas seems to feel the weight of the question. His smile diminishes, no longer so forced, though it’s still nervous, “No,” he admits. </p>
<p>Flint can’t ponder the implications of that answer all night. He’s here on business. He clasps his hands behind his back to hide their shaking. He could sit at the table, across from Thomas, and Miranda could sit beside him, but that all feels too close. Too familiar. That’s what friends would do, and Flint can’t let them get close enough to be friends here. Flint doesn’t <em>have</em> friends. </p>
<p>“How— when did you arrive?” he asks. How long have they been narrowly avoiding each other? </p>
<p>“Not a fortnight ago,” Miranda says. She’s followed him into the room, though she’s keeping some distance from him. It’s good, he thinks, that she’s not close enough for him to try and smell her perfume. </p>
<p>“Would you like some tea?” she adds, “or have you eaten yet?”</p>
<p>You shouldn’t feed strays that find their way to your home, he wants to tell her. It’s incentive for them to return. </p>
<p>“Don’t go out of your way,” he says instead. </p>
<p>A fortnight… the Walrus was at sea. Or, only just left. He’s not sure if it would have been worse to see the merchant vessel come in, to see strangers unloading their things in the bay, and to recognize them from afar and spend the rest of his days hiding from them. Or to stumble upon them like he did today.  </p>
<p>“You were not on the island,” Thomas says diplomatically, “or so I was told, when I started asking for people in charge.” </p>
<p>“No,” Flint agrees, because he’s not ready to get into <em>why</em> he was not on the island, not yet. </p>
<p>The kettle must have steamed just recently, because Miranda produces a full set of teapot and three fine cups with saucers very quickly. Flint recognizes the pattern of the one she hands him. It’s one he used before… before everything. </p>
<p>He has to lock his elbows to his ribs to keep from shaking and spilling tea all over the floor. Miranda sits down with Thomas at the table, and they’re both looking up at him now. </p>
<p>“You’re not dead,” he finally chokes out, “I paid someone to— to look in on you. I was told you were dead.”</p>
<p>Miranda and Thomas glance at one another, wondering who will speak. </p>
<p>“Technically we are,” Thomas says, “we were waiting him out, my father, to see how best to escape him. He had us trapped at a country estate, with no way to communicate to anyone. It was barbaric. But I assumed his mood would pass, as it always did. And once it did, we were going to find you. I had friends who found what ship they’d put you on, so we knew where you were headed—” </p>
<p>“But the ship was intercepted,” Flint finishes. He knows this part of the story. He can remember the sound of cannon fire and the calm of the storm before they were boarded. He’d pulled against his restraints, locked below deck, until his wrists were bloodied and sore. </p>
<p>Miranda fixes Flint with a heavy look, unashamed about how wet her eyes are, “We were told all the men on board were killed. All of them.” </p>
<p>Flint still remembers the sounds of killing, and hearing men die. He was on his feet, locked away in prisoners’ chains, ready to look his killers in the eyes and take a bite out of them if they came close enough. </p>
<p>“Captain Avery had a reputation to maintain,” Flint agrees, “and I had nothing to lose. I was going to be sold into labour somewhere in Savannah, and locked away for the rest of my life. Or, when the choice came, I could have my freedom.” </p>
<p>“Freedom comes with a cost,” Miranda cautions. </p>
<p>“So did loyalty to the crown,” Flint reminds her. She doesn’t look offended, like he reprimanded her, but instead curious. He realizes she’s trying to take the measure of him. It frightens him that he wants her approval. </p>
<p>“And you became a pirate?” she asks. </p>
<p>“I didn’t have the luxury of friends,” he says, “but I had skills on a ship.”</p>
<p>He remembers Gates finding him, asking him why he was locked up like an animal. Flint remembers speaking out loud, for the first time, his hatred of the empire, and his desire to escape it. He’d been taken to Avery himself for the final decision on whether to bring him into the crew, or kill him. </p>
<p>“My father—” Thomas speaks suddenly, and he looks gray, like a storm, “my father was assailed by pirates. Pirates that killed him, rather than take him for ransom.”</p>
<p>And now Thomas looks up and holds Flint in his gaze as he says, “That was you, wasn’t it?” </p>
<p>Flint wants to feel ashamed, and in a way he does. He’s humbled, to stand before Thomas, and to nod confirmation that he is the one who butchered his father in revenge, in grief, in a rage. In another sense, he has no regrets. Alfred Hamilton is what tore them apart, what caused the need for Flint’s baptism in blood. In many ways, he made the monster that killed him. </p>
<p>Miranda looks away but it’s not enough to hide the curse she hisses. Thomas looks down at his tea. </p>
<p>“We heard that Peter Ashe was killed as well. Your… your name came up,” he says. </p>
<p>“He was a friend, James,” Miranda pleads. She’s hoping he will deny his involvement. That he might be redeemable. </p>
<p>Flint feels no remorse now as he thinks back to standing in Peter’s house, and recognizing items from the Hamilton’s home. At the cold shock of hearing Peter confess to his betrayal, and the white-hot rage that enveloped him in the hours after. Charles Town burned, many people died, and Flint would do it all over again. </p>
<p>“I went to Peter to get support, to begin leveraging for pardons. To follow your plan,” he nods to Thomas, “while I was there, Peter confessed to me that he was the one who informed your father about…” </p>
<p>He’s not sure how to say it out loud. The way his mouth wants to form the words makes it seem like the three of them were a secret, something to be ashamed of. In his mind, Flint knows that the three of them, together, felt like clarity and like they had all the secrets of the world at their fingertips. Life was brighter, easier, lovelier, when it was them Together. </p>
<p>His silence is enough of an ending, and Miranda’s worried face goes blank with rage. </p>
<p>“What?” Thomas whispers. </p>
<p>“He had pieces of your— from your home. A clock, chairs. I recognized some things, and wondered how he came to inherit them from Alfred’s estate. It led to Peter’s confession.”</p>
<p>“And so you killed him?” Miranda asks. Her voice is tight, and now Flint isn’t sure what answer she wants, what tone she needs from him. </p>
<p>“That’s what happened in Charles Town,” he confirms. <em>I sacked a city for you</em>. </p>
<p>“All the stories about you?” Miranda follows. Thomas looks too stunned to speak, for the moment, letting the news wash over him, “all the stories of Captain Flint? Are they true?”</p>
<p>She’s asking how many other awful things he’s done, and if, perhaps, there isn’t a way to understand his motivations. If, perhaps, they might actually be noble from another lens. </p>
<p>“More or less,” he says, “there’s often a bit of truth in every story.” </p>
<p>Silence falls over them. Flint sips his tea. Miranda looks like a ghost, rigid, pale and staring ahead at nothing while her thoughts race. Thomas looks ill. Between the three of them he always had the softer heart. It doesn’t surprise him that learning of Flint’s role in his father’s demise makes him sick. </p>
<p>“Why Nassau?” Flint finally asks. </p>
<p>Both of them blink out of their heads like they’re waking from a long rest. </p>
<p>“I’m sure you were settled and comfortable somewhere,” Flint says, “so why Nassau?”</p>
<p>“You,” Thomas says quietly, “because this was the place we were going to save. When we learned that Nassau had fought off its oppressors, and was moving to become a free colony it, well, it seemed right. To be part of that history.” </p>
<p>“We wanted to start a legacy,” Miranda says, “we wanted to leave everything about the Old World behind us. A new home, a new start.”</p>
<p>“A new name,” Flint notes. His old name.</p>
<p>Miranda smiles, it seems sad, “we have had a few new names, over the years."</p>
<p>"I even went by Samuel for a time," Thomas adds, and Miranda looks at him with such open love that Flint finds himself leaning towards it. As if he might catch some stray ray of her affection. He catches himself and leans back on his heels. </p>
<p>Miranda continues, "We… disposed of ourselves, of the Hamilton name, to escape Alfred. After we got news of your death it made everything seem so much cleaner. What was truly important, what wasn't. The Hamilton's have been dead for years, and I don't think we have any intention of bringing them back. When we set sail from Europe it felt it was time to pick a new name, one that we could be proud of, and… it felt right. A small way of keeping you with us.” </p>
<p>The sentiment sits heavy in Flint’s stomach. They’ve been holding onto James all this time. He doesn’t blame them for wanting him back, but James McGraw is gone. </p>
<p>Flint doesn’t know what to ask next. Every second he spends here is another one closer to them realizing that they don’t have their James, can’t have their James, and they’ll be forced to cast him out. </p>
<p>Ten years. Ten whole years, an entire lifetime apart, and he doesn’t know what to talk about. What to ask. Does any of it matter? They’re here now. They’re alive. What else does he need to know?</p>
<p>“So you’re starting a school,” Flint tries. </p>
<p>Thomas laughs, a little self-depreciating, “Yes. I have some skills, and I know where my strengths lie. I have always believed that we could find more great minds, great scholars that could change the world, if only more people had the chance to learn what they are capable of. I think it’s no better slap in the face than to discover great thinkers here, outside of colonial power. One day, perhaps, it could even become a university. People would travel from around the world to come and learn in Nassau. But that’s getting a little ahead of myself.”</p>
<p>“Where is it going to be?” Flint asks. </p>
<p>“Theoretically it would be better if it were a building, up off the beach. But the likelihood of people attending drops significantly the further I take it away from the water, so, for now I was thinking of pitching a tent, and carting in whatever I need every day.” </p>
<p>“You’ll need a cart,” Flint points out, “and a horse.” </p>
<p>Thomas nods, agreeable, “I’m in the process of finding one. Or maybe I’ll just build one, for now.”</p>
<p>That reminds Flint of the porch outside, of the repairs the house needs. With his ankle as it is, Thomas will need a day or two of recovery and that will put him behind in his plans. </p>
<p>“I can ask around,” Flint offers, “and I can get someone to fix your steps.” </p>
<p>“You don’t have to,” Thomas says. </p>
<p>“I think I’ll find better deals than you would,” Flint reminds him, “besides, I know the right people to ask. The merchants are worse than a pirate when they smell fresh blood.”</p>
<p>It’s a joke, in Nassau. How the merchants are just as devious as the pirates, without ever going out to the sea to risk their lives for their goods. Flint makes the joke without thinking, until he realizes that he’s brought up piracy again. </p>
<p>“I should be going,” he says quickly, “thank you for the tea.” </p>
<p>“You could stay,” Miranda says, “it’s not much, but I made dinner. You’ve come all this way...”</p>
<p>Dinner leads to a nightcap. A nightcap between the three of them always led to private rooms and hot kisses. Flint’s pulse quickens, and he’s not sure if he’s ready to fight or run. </p>
<p>“It’s a dark night,” he argues, “I should be on my way before the road gets any more difficult.” </p>
<p>“Or you could stay,” Thomas offers. </p>
<p>It’s out on the table. Now he has to rebuke them, set the line in the sand. They’ve been dancing around this all night. Could they be <em>together</em> again? Now that they’re all in one place? </p>
<p>“We have a spare bed,” Miranda offers, diplomatic as always. That was always their excuse. Feed James too many drinks after dinner, let him take the guest bed. The two of them would race to see who could be the first to sneak into his room, while he would try and sneak to theirs. As they got bolder, more careless, they stopped using the excuse altogether. </p>
<p>Flint can pretend he doesn’t know all of those layers, all of those pretends that belonged to James, to ten years ago. </p>
<p>He can take the spare bed. He has a room he rents at the tavern for the time he’s ashore, and he’s come to enjoy the small pleasure of sleeping in a bed versus a hammock. The lack of patrons drinking and singing downstairs is tantalizing. </p>
<p>“Alright,” he relents. </p>
<p>He moves forwards, cautious, and takes a seat at the table. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The night passes quickly, and slowly, at the same time. Once upon a time they were all in sync, and could spend hours basking in one another's company without saying a word, or talk and talk and talk until it could seem like there was nothing left in the world to speak on, and they would still find conversation to be had. They’re awkward now, more so because Flint is unsure of where to place himself. He shies away from them, ignores the looks they take at him, pulls away from curious hands. They don’t comment on his split knuckles, the scab on his lip from fighting. They don’t talk about the violence inherent to his being. </p>
<p>It becomes late enough, and it has been a <em>long</em> day, that the hour wears on all of them. Flint waters his horse and sets it up for the night in the ramshackle stable. The bedding has long soured, and the whole place is in need of cleaning should it be returned to regular use. Flint hopes the horse will forgive him to not have food for the night, and quietly promises to buy it an apple upon return to Nassau tomorrow. By the time he comes indoors Thomas has hobbled his way to bed, and Miranda shows him to the guest room. She’s lit a candle for him, and left some books out. </p>
<p>“If you need anything,” she starts, and then changes her mind and says instead, “it’s good to see you.”</p>
<p>The small room puts them in close proximity, and now he can smell her perfume. It would be so easy to reach out, to take her by the waist and draw her in to kiss her. It would be easy to take her to their room, to find Thomas in bed, and to have the three of them together again. Flint could do it, could have that, tonight. He knows it. </p>
<p>But it would only be for tonight. And then as time goes, they would learn more about him, they would <em>see</em> him for what he is, and they would be disgusted with him and with themselves. The Hamilton’s taught him to know no shame, but it <em>would</em> be a shame to bring this monster to their bed. It would turn them against him, in the most irreparable way. </p>
<p>“Goodnight,” he says instead, and steps back to let her leave the room alone. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The books are titles he believes he’s read before, a lifetime ago. He’s not sure if they were read in the Hamilton’s parlour, or in his own time before he knew them. They don’t smell familiar, when he picks them up and cracks the binding to flip through the pages. </p>
<p>At the sight of the books, he had felt a small stab of hope. That the book Thomas had given him, had inscribed for him, would be here. He hadn’t been allowed any belongings when Alfred Hamilton and the Admiral had sent him away. It’s more likely that the book, upon discovery of Thomas’ declaration of love, had been burned or destroyed. Still, a small part of Flint had hoped that, with the return of Thomas and Miranda from the dead, that perhaps they might have found a way to bring that book with them. </p>
<p>He looks at the bed and thinks of laying in it, of blowing out the candle and staring into the darkness. He wonders if he’ll be able to hear Thomas snoring, or Miranda getting ready for bed. Does Thomas still wake at odd hours to read in silence? Does Miranda have sleepless nights where she sits by a window and thinks, undisturbed, in the dark? </p>
<p>Will they come knock at his door?</p>
<p>The thought terrifies and thrills him. In the dark, without words or explanations, without having to see what he’s become, could they call him James, their James, and could he let that lie persist in the shadows? Could he touch them, and they touch him, and could he hide his scars and dirty hands from them? Could this happen, and could it remain, in the dark?</p>
<p>No, he reminds himself. He’s being ridiculous. Miranda and Thomas refuse to keep their love or affairs in the dark. They were discreet, barely, only for the sake of avoiding unnecessary outrage from people who could not understand. They would not be content. </p>
<p>There’s a buzz under his skin, like the energy before a fight. The energy it takes to weave a story, to entrap men’s minds and bend them to his will. The energy of a hunt, of closing in on a prize. He doesn’t know why he’s feeling it now. </p>
<p>The silence is deafening. Flint thought he knew silence. Out on the sea, in the dead of night, there is a sense of isolation. When the horizon goes dark, and the sea and sky become one, when all there is to the world is the moon and stars and you realize how small and insignificant you are compared to the world. He thought that was silence. But there was the ship, groaning, and the movement of the ocean. The men snored, paced around on the watch shifts. The hammocks as they swayed, and the fabric that rustled when the men rolled over in their sleep.</p>
<p>There is no motion here, in the room. The night is quiet, the house doesn’t perch on the top of the unknown. Flint closes his eyes and lets it wash over him. No drunken singing, no sounds of lovemaking. No fighting, no cursing, nothing. It’s like it was all a bad memory, and here he is, in this quiet room.</p>
<p>Dangerous, he thinks to himself. Tantalizing, even. He fears if he lays down he will never want to get back up. To walk away from the sea, to where someone mistakes his oar for a shovel. That’s all he’s wanted. This is as close as he’s ever come to having it. </p>
<p>And yet… and yet. He can feel the sea call to him. There’s work to be done. Patrols to be maintained, marks to hunt. He is building something never seen before in the world: a free land. He can’t afford to rest, to be tempted by dangerous things like peaceful nights and soft beds. </p>
<p>Flint takes a book, and slips out of the room.  </p>
<p>The table feels safe. Any guest would sit at the table. It gives him view of the front door, but also allows him to be aware if Thomas or Miranda leave their room. He should leave, in the dead of night. Like the Flint his father met, returned to the sea, Captain Flint should not haunt this home. </p>
<p>He remembers meeting Avery for the first time, and being asked his name. James McGraw knew he had to die, to escape the humiliation that had been branded on his legacy, and he knew the rage inside him would lead him to dark things. He doesn’t know why Flint came to him, in that moment, but that was the name he’d given. </p>
<p>They’d known it was a false name, but they’d accepted it. And before long, it was his true name. </p>
<p>He’d dreamed, in the early days, before learning of Thomas and Miranda’s deaths, that they would find him and he would be able to renounce Flint. That he could let Flint go, and become a man again. And that lie sustained him, for some time. He’s done unforgivable things. And he could do them, because he would take off this coat one day, and be free of Flint’s sins. </p>
<p>He’s such a fool. He’s been lying to himself this whole time. He’ll never be rid of Flint. He <em>is</em> Flint. There is no turning back, no hanging of this coat so he can come home, clean, to his lovers. It was outside conspirators that forced them apart, but it was James himself who nailed the coffin closed. </p>
<p>And yet he can’t bring himself to leave. </p>
<p>The candle is burning down. They left him to read, to stay, to be in their home. They’re so trusting. The night is dark, and everyone is asleep. He’s tried to read, for hours now, and hasn’t absorbed a single word. The world feels strange at this hour, like nothing is real and everything has the potential to be real. He fears, for just a moment, that he’s dreamed Thomas and Miranda to life. That they aren’t actually here. Flint rises to his feet. </p>
<p>There is no lock on their door when he prowls down the hall to look at them. He takes them in, now, when they can’t look back and see him. The long line of Thomas’ limbs, leg dangerously close to hanging off the edge of the bed. Miranda with her back to him, knees curled to her chest. He used to fit there: around them, between them, under them, with them. This is a threshold he cannot cross. </p>
<p>The energy in him intensifies, and he’s ashamed to suddenly have a name for it. Arousal. He’s aroused by them, <em>for </em>them. It dries his throat, clings to his guts like daggers. </p>
<p>Flint closes the door. He’s out of control. He’s out of his mind. He can’t have them, because he’ll ruin them. Like he ruins everyone. </p>
<p>He needs to make himself understand that. He has to stop hoping. </p>
<p>Flint pulls himself back, and makes to leave. He’s spoken to them; he’s given them his story. He knows they are alive. That should be enough. Flint has work to do. A crew to serve, a sea to roam. He has freedom and salt and sand. He should not want for more, because that is already more than he deserves. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Miranda, always an earlier riser than Thomas, finds him in the morning. He made himself comfortable on their porch. It was easier to spot potential dangers lurking in the dark from here. It feels less like he’s been invited in, from out here. </p>
<p>She has a shawl wrapped around her shoulders, and her hair is down. He used to pull her hair back so he could kiss her throat. </p>
<p>“You’re still here?” she asks. He can’t tell if it’s disapproving, or a question. He doesn’t answer. </p>
<p>“You will have to go.” she says, and this time it’s a statement, but not an ultimatum.</p>
<p>“The Walrus is set to sail tomorrow. I have preparations to make,” he agrees. </p>
<p>“To— to hunt? For piracy?” she asks. </p>
<p>“Yes,” he says, as simply as he can. He has a role, a job, and life on Nassau. In all of his dreams of reunion those details were no longer important, no longer things to worry about. Because they didn’t apply to his life when he left Flint behind.</p>
<p>He doesn’t know how to face the Hamilton’s— no, they’d changed their names after faking their deaths. They are the McGraw’s now. He doesn't know how to face the McGraw's when Flint is the name he still wears. He doesn’t know how to be a man and a monster. He doesn’t think it’s possible. One always kills the other. </p>
<p>“Will you be gone long?” she asks. <em>Will you come back</em> is what he thinks she’s asking. He’s not sure if he wants her to be asking that. He’s not sure if he wants to hear that so he can deny it, or so he has a reason to come back. </p>
<p>“We’re anticipating a week at sea,” he says instead. </p>
<p>She glances over her shoulder, back into the home. The dawn is cool, in comparison to the heat of the day. Thomas won’t be up for some time yet. Flint wonders if he should offer to start a fire for her. But that’s a husband's work. He has to be careful not to overstep his boundaries. Not until he knows what he wants: if he wants to be welcomed back, or cast out forever. Once he makes up his mind, he will make it true. That's the power Flint has.</p>
<p>“What do they know of you?” she asks. </p>
<p>He missed this insatiable curiosity about her. When he doesn’t respond right away, she clarifies. </p>
<p>“From what I understand, it’s not very often Captain Flint is caught unawares. It must have been a spectacle, seeing Thomas. We’re new here. People will have questions about us. About you.”</p>
<p>“They’ll want the measure of you,” he agrees, “and they’ll be looking for information on me.” </p>
<p>“Halfway across the world, and it’s still the same politics,” she says. The crinkle of her eyes indicates it should be a joke. There are new lines on her face, and he doesn’t know where they came from. Has she been happy, and laughing? Or has she spent the years frustrated, or worse, afraid? </p>
<p>Are any of those lines from grieving him? The man she once loved? </p>
<p>“They know nothing,” he says, and frees her of any obligation to him, “most don’t know I’ve come here tonight.” </p>
<p>She’s quiet as she takes in the information. </p>
<p>“The bed wasn't touched. Did you spend all night out here?” she asks, and walks to the edge of the porch to look out at the light filling the sky, “seems a strange way to stay unnoticed.” </p>
<p>She woke up and went to find him, to see if he’d been a dream. It’s part of why he’d needed to look in on them again last night. He wonders what might have happened if he had been sleeping. </p>
<p>“I can offer some protection,” he admits, “knowing you are important to me has benefits and dangers. I’m no king in Nassau, but I have reputation enough that you’ll be given a wide berth.” </p>
<p>He’s misspoken, and he knows it, in admitting that they are still important to him. It’s the secret he’s kept so close to his heart that he almost forgot the truth of it. They are important. They are everything. They are his creation story. </p>
<p>But admitting it brings him too close to asking for forgiveness, asking for them to look past what he’s become. Which means he must face what he's become, and defend it, or succumb to it. </p>
<p>She turns to face him, and he can’t read the expression on her face. He once knew her so well. Even if he could never predict what she might say, as she always loved to surprise him, he could follow her moods, and guess at where she might be. It’s been ten years. He would know her anywhere, and yet with her in front of him he does not know her at all. </p>
<p>“You and Thomas were friends in London, years ago. We made powerful enemies, and were driven from home. We thought you dead. You thought the same. And here we are," she declares. It's a truth that's safe to be shared. It's a complete lie. </p>
<p>Maybe this can be the rewriting of their history. Maybe this is how they let him go.</p>
<p>"And here we are," he agrees.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I really wanted to subtitle this chapter: "local pirate king is horny for the first time in like 10 years, and mad about it" lol</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>In this chapter you may feel like I'm saying 'Thomas Hamilton cannot function in the wold without people to take care of him'... and you're RIGHT. The man is too booksmart for this title to apply, but he's effectively a himbo. He's a hot, kind, optimistic himbo sweetheart and Miranda and James (used to) lose their minds over how much they adore him. </p>
<p>And with that said, please enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Thomas wakes to Miranda's gentle touch on his shoulder. For a moment he is thoughtless with sleep and simply delighted to see his wife. And then he remembers the miracle of yesterday. </p>
<p>"James already left," Miranda says before Thomas can ask, "I've put the kettle on. Meet me for tea."</p>
<p>It's not hot yet, not like it will be in the full heat of the day, but Thomas still marvels at the temperature in Nassau. One feels like a great thawing happens, deep down to the bones, and after only two weeks in the tropics, Thomas thinks he still has years and years of English winters to melt off. It makes it easier to get out of bed when he’s not moving from comfort to chilled air, and it also reminds him just how far from home he’s come to be. </p>
<p>Sometimes he ponders on the fact that he still thinks of London as home. He wonders if Nassau will ever become that to him. </p>
<p>His ankle hurts, though it's manageable. A day or two in recovery and it will be fine. Thomas finds it more a bother than something to be taken seriously.</p>
<p>Thomas can't help but stop at the second bedroom, to look in on it. For any sign of James, that he was here and not some fanciful dream. He's not sure what he's expecting. The impression of a man in the bed, pillows creased, blankets rumpled, the books marked from reading. Part of him, despite everything, wants to see James pulling his boots on. Wants to see him look up at Thomas with a smile.</p>
<p>Thomas wants a lot of things. He shakes off the fantasy and joins Miranda.</p>
<p>They have enjoyed standing out on their porch the last few mornings as they talk and enjoy their tea. Today they stay inside by unspoken agreement and avoid the deathtrap.</p>
<p>"James said he would find someone for the steps today," Miranda says, like she's discussing arbitrary things. Thomas's mind reels from the simple statement "James said", and knowing that happened this morning. </p>
<p>"He didn't sleep in the bed," Thomas notes.</p>
<p>Miranda shakes her head, "I found him outside. I think he had taken up watch on the house."</p>
<p>While Nassau is famous for how dangerous it is, and the kind of dangerous people it attracts, Thomas had considered everyone civil, to an extent. Especially further inland, and away from the pirate bay. </p>
<p>"Do we require a guard?" Thomas asks.</p>
<p>Miranda gives him a raise of her eyebrows, "I don't think so. James implied his association with us was tantamount to coming under his protection. Which he can give because he has… status here."</p>
<p>Her face sours. As does Thomas's.</p>
<p>"He has a reputation," Thomas agrees. </p>
<p>He's thankful they aren't eating yet for the way his stomach turns. His thoughts fly back to the meeting yesterday. The nerves he'd been feeling, the potential for danger and potential for success riding on coming face to face with a man infamous around the world. A man whose reputation was built on death and destruction. He'd walked in, bloodied and angry, like some wild jungle cat, and Thomas had the realization that he was dealing with a man so far removed from the concept of humanity that he truly could be capable of anything.</p>
<p>And then the moment of horror as he looked into Captain Flint's face and realized he knew him. </p>
<p>"What do you make of him?" Miranda asks. They'd been in such a stunned stupor last night to talk about this when they went to bed, too afraid to question the miraculous return of James, lest their unhappiness with his state lead to losing him all over again. </p>
<p>Thomas has spent the last ten years dreaming of seeing James one more time. Of kissing him and telling him how truly, deeply he loves him. He suspects Miranda feels the same. </p>
<p>Had it been James, walking through their door, after ten years away, Thomas would know what to do. He would know how to greet him, speak to him. He would know how to love him. </p>
<p>Thomas doesn't know what to do with this man, Flint. Doesn't know how to sit under his glowering gaze, doesn't know how to talk to someone who growls like he's holding himself back from snarling. Doesn't know how to look at a man who stands absolutely still, until he moves, and Thomas doesn't know how to articulate that he knows that movement comes from the decision to inspire fear. It's how a wolf moves amongst sheep. </p>
<p>"I can't believe he's alive," Thomas says. He's avoiding the answer she wants, but is still being honest. </p>
<p>Miranda laughs, a small, quiet sound, "I'm having trouble believing it wasn't all a dream. All this time… we all thought the other, gone."</p>
<p>Thomas's heart twists suddenly. He and Miranda had each other. James was alone. </p>
<p>Miranda's expression grows vacant. Thomas suspects she's coming to the same conclusion. </p>
<p>"It must have been so hard for him," she says, "he lost everything."</p>
<p>"Piracy almost seems logical," Thomas agrees. It still sickens him of everything James had lost, because of him. </p>
<p>It sickens him more to think that perhaps this is what James might have been, all this time. Perhaps this is what happens when men lose civilized society, and they are all truly animals at heart. Thomas doesn’t know if he has that kind of ferocity in him, but now he fears he might discover it here in Nassau if he is not careful.</p>
<p>“What are you thinking?” Miranda asks.</p>
<p>Thomas looks at her across the table, “What are <em>you</em> thinking?”</p>
<p>He’s grateful there is nothing within reach for her to throw at him, so instead she gives him a scowl. </p>
<p>“You keep asking my opinions and thoughts, which leads me to believe you’ve developed some of your own,” Thomas says, “besides, I’ve only just woken. Give me some time to gather my wits.” </p>
<p>Miranda smiles, despite herself, accepting his terms, “You told me he was different— that he’d changed. And I would expect that, it’s been so long. I don’t know if I’d recognize myself were I to meet with who I was ten years ago. And yet… that change is immense in him. It’s like he’s become a completely new man.” </p>
<p>“He’s nothing like James,” Thomas agrees. </p>
<p>Miranda’s mouth pinches, her brow furrows, and Thomas sits back. She disagrees with him. </p>
<p>“You and James were so enraptured with one another,” she says, nearly wistfully, “you have forgotten how reserved he was with everyone else. How he was with us, last night, felt the same. He keeps everything so close to himself that it can be hard to know what he’s thinking.” </p>
<p>She’s right. James was openly affectionate behind closed doors, and would speak his mind and even ramble thoughts on occasion. When out in the world, he held himself to a high standard. He only spoke after the thought had run a gauntlet, and did not put himself out of line with the expectations placed upon him. Many people mistook that for signs that he was thoughtless, and simply following orders. James was an ocean of infinite possibilities and intelligence, hidden from sight like drawing a curtain to hide a storm. The exceptions, of course, had always been when James's anger had been roused. Thomas had seen that brash, blind rage only once when James stood up to his father. </p>
<p>“In any case, I think he made it clear where he wants to stand with us,” Thomas muses. Flint— no, James, James, god what a shock to the senses, both sweet and terrible, to think that James was sitting here at their table just last night— James skirting the room and shying from them with the look of a man going through something unpleasant. </p>
<p>Thomas dreamed of seeing James many times, after losing him. In all those dreams he ran to James and wrapped him in his arms. Thomas can’t imagine holding Flint like that. Flint is more likely to stab him, he muses. He’d almost gone for his sword when he’d realized who Thomas was, back at their first reunion. </p>
<p>“I think we are a threat to his reputation here,” Thomas explains. He’s had this treatment from other lovers before. When the affection ran its course, they scorned him to distance themselves from the shame they felt. While pirates are far removed from civilized society and its enforcement of incomprehensible opinions on love, Thomas doesn’t think they are <em>that</em> far removed as to be the liberal forerunners of mankind. </p>
<p>Well, not yet at least. That’s what he hopes his school will lead to. </p>
<p>Miranda waits for him to continue thinking out loud. </p>
<p>“Our past, particularly with me, could threaten whatever reputation he has here. I think he wants to see us settled, and then not at all. It’s been ten years, with him thinking us gone. He’s moved on.” </p>
<p>“James knows you are no gossip,” Miranda says, and she sets down her teacup, “but he was reserved, yes. He seemed… conflicted.” </p>
<p>“Conflicted?” Thomas echoes, “where on earth did you get that?” Flint seemed more disgusted by them, if Thomas had to give an emotion to the entire demeanor that Flint projected all evening.</p>
<p>“I think he misses us,” Miranda says, “but I also think he may not know what to think. Maybe he has moved on, but… I don’t think so.” </p>
<p>“Ten years is a long time,” Thomas reminds her. </p>
<p>She pins him with a single look, and says, “Darling, we took his name.” </p>
<p>Thomas laughs at that. She’s right. She’s always so right, his wonderful wife. </p>
<p>“But there are… even if he still feels the same, and lord knows we’ve shown our hand,” they took James’ name, they invited him into their home. She’s right, Thomas thinks, they could not really be any more obvious that they’ve never wanted to let James go, even after all this time.</p>
<p>Miranda looks cautious as she speaks, venturing into difficult terrain, “But it has been ten years. And we have all changed, yes, that is the nature of things. But there are very good reasons we may consider letting James go. He’s too smart not to know that. He’s so guarded, and changed so much. But there were moments of honesty with him, last night, when I saw him. When he— when I opened the door, I saw him. A man does not react like that, like he reacted to you, and not still care deeply. And I think it scares him how much he cares.” </p>
<p>Thomas is nearly blindsided with the idea that Captain Flint, <em>the</em> Captain Flint, who made sailors cross themselves when they spoke his name on the sea, who made parents hold their children closer. Who was so ferocious and fearsome that Britain herself relinquished hold on Nassau, because the bloodshed wasn’t worth the cost of the fight. <em>That</em> Captain Flint. </p>
<p>Captain Flint is afraid… of him. </p>
<p>“What does that mean?” Thomas asks, “for us, then. If we are here, and James is here, what does that mean?”</p>
<p>Miranda shakes her head, “I don’t know,” she admits, “I don’t know if it’s possible to make a decision on something like this, to know how to handle this.” </p>
<p>“He killed my father,” Thomas finds himself admitting. How does one look at the man who killed their family, and think about anything but vengeance. </p>
<p>Miranda is quiet in the face of that. She’s in agreement, she knows what that means. Murder is atrocious, on its own, but it’s a different kind of darkness when it happens to people you are familiar with. Thomas’ father was not a kind man, and Thomas resented him most of his life. He may have even prayed for his demise a few times. But Alfred was his father. </p>
<p>“Your father destroyed James’ life,” Miranda says, and she’s looking down at her tea. It’s neither a judgement or an accusation, “and, as James believed, was the cause for our deaths. Perhaps it’s possible to understand his actions in that sense.” </p>
<p>“It’s how he explained killing Peter as well,” Thomas says, and he’s not sure what point he’s trying to make, whether he wants to find a way to forgive all of this, or a reason to reject James, “is it acceptable then, to kill if there is good reason for it? Is there murder we can excuse?” </p>
<p>Miranda shakes her head, “I don’t know. I don't know if I believe James's story about Peter, either. Was Peter truly a traitor to us? Or did he reject James for his piracy?”</p>
<p>"We may never know," Thomas says. He feels the same. </p>
<p>"If he was… if he was the one who…" Miranda's eyes are sharp like glass, "if it was Peter who betrayed us. Then I'm glad of what James did to him." </p>
<p>Thomas isn't sure he can echo that sentiment. He's not sure he believes there's ever an excuse for murder, or burning an entire city to the ground. Does vengeance allow for all the innocent blood spilled? He's not sure it does. </p>
<p>“James said he is sailing tomorrow,” Miranda says, “and he won’t return for at least a week.”</p>
<p>“A week to gather our wits,” Thomas notes, and he hesitates to ask, but he’s too curious, “what do you think, of going forwards?”</p>
<p>“There’s no final decision,” Miranda says quickly, and then, softer, she adds, “but it’s James.” </p>
<p>Less than a year they spent together, the three of them. And in that time Thomas had begun picturing a lifetime of the three of them. He and Miranda had countless lovers before James, and even courted a few while James was with them. They’ve seen more since— it’s easier to gain sanctuary at a friend’s home when all parties involved gain something from the interaction after all. But no one has made a mark on their life like James. Thomas feared speaking it out loud the first time, after James’ loss, when the feeling finally articulated itself in the face of death. He was their missing piece. He has been the shadow that hangs over them since. No one else could ever or will ever compare to James, and how easily he fit into both of their hearts. </p>
<p><em>But it’s James</em> is a perfectly good argument for the entire complicated mess they are in. </p>
<p>A deal with a devil, Thomas muses. He gets his hearts desire, his greatest wish, to have James return. But there is a dark twist on his wish, and James has returned as someone dangerous and terrifying. </p>
<p>“Where are you?” Miranda asks. </p>
<p>“We invited him to stay,” Thomas says out loud, and laughs at himself, “I pushed for it, too.”</p>
<p>They’re sitting here discussing whether they continue with James as they were, to bring him in and look past the horrible things he has done. But they already asked him to stay the night. </p>
<p>“We couldn’t let him leave,” Miranda reasons, “it’s been ten years!” </p>
<p>Thomas nods in understanding, “Is that what our hearts want? Should we follow that? Cast aside any doubts or suspicions, let go of our judgements, and do we ask him to stay?” </p>
<p>“I think he should have a bed here any time he wishes,” Miranda says, and looks at Thomas tenderly, “unless that is too much for you.”</p>
<p>Because James killed his father. Butchered him, if the accounts were correct. </p>
<p>“He’ll be safe here,” Thomas says, “because he’s James.” </p>
<p>Will they be safe letting him in? Thomas feels ill even questioning it. Flint unsettles him so deeply. But if he believes Flint is James, then Thomas knows he would trust James with his life. With Miranda’s. </p>
<p>If he believes Flint is James then he also has to believe that James has always been capable of the darkness Flint cultivates. If he loved every part of James, even that darkness, then by extension does he already love Flint? Has he loved Flint all this time, and now only gets to meet the man? </p>
<p>Miranda sets her empty cup, “I don’t know where I stand, just yet. I don’t entirely know— well, I know what I would hope for, in an easier scenario. But I have truly loved so very few people in my life, Thomas. I can’t let him go. Not if he’s alive.”</p>
<p>Thomas reaches across the table to take her hand in his. He runs a thumb along her knuckles in comfort. He knows the truth of these words, knows the absence of love in her past. He counts himself amongst the lucky few who get to know Miranda for who she truly is, who has her trust, and that he was found worthy enough to be allowed to love her as he does. </p>
<p>“I think I knew you would come to this. You and James were always so similar,” Thomas says, “sometimes I worried the two of you would realize this and cut me out.” </p>
<p>Her nose wrinkles as she narrows her eyes at him. She thinks he’s being stupid. His heart beats a little faster with how much he’d like to kiss her. </p>
<p>“You and James always understood one another in ways I could not. Maybe… maybe this gives you the ability to forgive him.” </p>
<p>Miranda’s fingers tighten in his, “And you cannot?” she asks, voicing the words he can’t say out loud. </p>
<p>“I love James,” Thomas says, and it’s not so much a confession as it is a simple truth of the world. The sun is hot, the water is deep. He’s in love with James. </p>
<p>“I love James,” Thomas repeats again, “and I still do. I think I will love him for the rest of my life. And I don’t know if I want to be in love with Flint.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Men arrive at their home before noon, claiming that Captain Flint hired them for work. They’ve been instructed to do whatever is asked of them. </p>
<p>Thomas does his best, but he’s useless when it comes to handyman skills. In the end he asks that they build stairs to the porch that won’t try and kill him, and for the men to evaluate the porch itself for similar killer intentions. </p>
<p>Miranda has taken it upon herself to learn gardening. She’s picked up some pieces over the years, handling small herb gardens with her lady friends and learning from books. She finds the idea fanciful, growing and raising and providing for themselves off the land. She also claims that the heavy work is perfect for meditation and soothing her thoughts. </p>
<p>He notes that she’s particularly aggressive as she whacks dirt clumps and turns the soil. </p>
<p>Thomas finds himself trapped inside, unable to get off the porch without embarrassing himself because of his ankle hindering him. He attempts reading at the table, where he can watch Miranda work and be available for any questions the men might have. But it’s hard to sit when everyone else is sweating from labor. </p>
<p>He supposes they will all have to break at some point for food and water, and supposes that is something he can help with. A simple soup shouldn’t be too hard. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“You’re cooking?” Miranda says when she walks inside. There’s dirt on her face, her hands are filthy as is the hem of her dress. Thomas has indecent thoughts about how he’d like to take her to bed right now, their company be damned. </p>
<p>But her fearful expression holds him back. </p>
<p>“It’s not that hard,” he scoffs, “I may have a lack of skill, but it’s just heating things up in water.”</p>
<p>“You don’t cook,” Miranda says.</p>
<p>“A man can learn,” Thomas argues. </p>
<p>“Thomas the last time you tried to make a meal you didn’t cook the meat thoroughly and got us both sick,” Miranda scolds him. </p>
<p>Thomas has been trying to forget, “And I promise to never try and kill you again.”</p>
<p>Miranda points at the pot he’s stirring over the fire, “And what is that?” </p>
<p>“A kindness!” he insists, “there’s no meat, if that helps.” </p>
<p>Miranda comes to stand beside him, mouth tight and eyes narrowed in suspicion. Thomas can’t help but tug her close enough to kiss her cheek, and she smiles despite herself. </p>
<p>“I’m afraid to try it,” she admits. </p>
<p>“I can let the men try it first,” he offers. </p>
<p>“We are not getting a reputation for poisoning people that work for us,” she informs him. He laughs. </p>
<p>“I tried it already,” Thomas admits, “I think it’s quite good!”</p>
<p>“Well you can’t get any worse,” she teases. </p>
<p>Further talk is interrupted by the sound of a horse riding up the road. Seconds later a single rider makes his way up to the house. It’s James. </p>
<p>The carpenters all pause in their work as James dismounts and approaches them. He’s not wearing his long coat, though Thomas can spy it on the saddle. James carries a sheathed sword that he ties onto his belt as he walks to the workers. He’s got a pistol tucked into his belt, and he doesn’t otherwise look like he’s changed clothes since yesterday. </p>
<p>It’s strange seeing him with his head shaved, though, Thomas supposes it helps to differentiate Flint from James when they look so vastly different. </p>
<p>At the same time, it’s like seeing him for the first time all over again. Thomas’ blood races at the sight of him, at the knowledge that this is <em>James</em>. </p>
<p>Miranda heads outside to greet him. Thomas watches from the window as James stops to talk to the men working, singling out the man in charge. He can’t hear the words they’re saying, but it’s clear enough from the body language that the man is afraid of James. </p>
<p>Thomas once loved to look across a room to spy James when he thought no one was looking. He always had excellent posture, a straight back and hands folded behind his back or stiffly at his side. Flint stands with a slight slouch, one foot propped on a stone and a hand on his hip as he looks to where the man gestures at the work they’ve done. </p>
<p>Both men look up when Miranda steps outside. Thomas watches Flint’s shoulders come up, and his back snap into a line. He looks like he’s on guard, and ready to confront an enemy. </p>
<p><em>He’s afraid of us</em>, Miranda had said. </p>
<p>Flint— James— it’s so hard to decide which to think of him as— <em>Flint</em>, Thomas tries it out, to see if the name sits better in his thoughts— Flint steps up onto the porch, and Thomas hears Miranda’s voice through the open door. She comes back inside with him following. He has all the aura of a wraith, or perhaps the grim reaper himself. He stops only a few steps in from the door, like he can’t bring himself to come in any further. Miranda stops between the two of them. It feels suddenly, to Thomas, like he is at odds with Flint. </p>
<p>“It may take another day to finish the porch,” Flint reports in lieu of a greeting. </p>
<p>Thomas isn’t sure if he should point that out. Does he try to have polite conversation? Did James have polite conversations with his father before he killed him? With Peter? </p>
<p>“I’m impressed with how quickly you found people to work on it. It will be nice to feel safe out there,” Thomas says instead.  </p>
<p>Flint glances down at Thomas’s ankle, but he says nothing. </p>
<p>“You know,” Miranda says, “I don’t intend to sound resentful. But we never discussed a budget for this.” </p>
<p>She looks at Flint for explanation. Thomas hadn’t considered the budget either. Well, he had, but only briefly. And assumed Miranda and Flint had discussed that this morning while we was still asleep.</p>
<p>Flint clears his throat, and looks away from Miranda like he’s a child being scolded, “I— I realized I had forgotten to ask. So, I took care of it.”</p>
<p>Miranda shoots Thomas a look over her shoulder. She feels vindicated. Thomas isn’t sure how this is a sign of anything. </p>
<p>“That’s kind of you James, thank you,” Miranda says. </p>
<p>Flint makes a noise of acknowledgement, and refuses to look at her. </p>
<p>“I won’t be able to check in again until after I’ve returned. You can ask for any further repairs you may need— the roof and the stable need some tending, if you’d like,” he says. </p>
<p>Thomas has absolutely no familiarity with tropical housing, let alone how they are constructed. They haven’t even seen rain yet, and so it never occurred to him to look into the situation of the roof. And he hasn’t even gone out to investigate the stable himself. It makes him feel like he should know better, and he’s being scolded. Flint was here for one night, and seems to know Thomas’ home better than he does. </p>
<p>“You leave tomorrow?” Miranda asks. </p>
<p>“Yes,” Flint nods in confirmation. He takes a half-step back towards the door. </p>
<p>“We were talking this morning,” Miranda says, and Thomas feels his heart leap into this throat. She’s so pragmatic, Miranda. Thomas wasn’t sure he was ready to have all of his confusion and conflicting feelings aired so suddenly, when he himself still isn’t entirely sure what he wants from Flint. </p>
<p>Flint raises his eyes to stare at her, hanging on her words. His whole body has gone perfectly still. The hair on the back of Thomas’ neck raises at the intensity of the look. </p>
<p>“We want you to know that we have room for you, whenever you’re on land. You’re welcome here,” she says. </p>
<p>Flint shifts his gaze onto Thomas, and now Thomas feels the weight of his attention. It inspires the need to fight or to flee. Flint holds him longer than is necessary, before he averts his eyes again. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” he says. </p>
<p>A silence stretches between the three of them. Thomas is unsure of what to say to break it. Do they continue talking like friends, ignorant that ten years have passed? Do they continue to delight and be made senseless by the reunion? How long will these interactions remain uncomfortable? Does Thomas want familiarity with Captain Flint?</p>
<p>He has it, he thinks, whether he wants it or not. James is Captain Flint. And Thomas loved James like an extension of his own soul. </p>
<p>“Have you eaten?” Thomas asks, and gestures to the soup he’s put together, “I was about to serve lunch.” </p>
<p>Flint gives the pot barely a glance before flickering a glance between Thomas and Miranda, setting on Thomas, “I wasn’t aware you could cook.” </p>
<p>“He can’t,” Miranda says, “but, James, you may have to be the test subject so we can serve it to the workers in good conscience.” </p>
<p>“I think it’s perfectly fine,” Thomas banters, but he’s unable to look away from Flint’s gaze. </p>
<p>Is it possible for him to sit here, to talk and joke with the man who killed his father? If Thomas goes on loving him after this, what does that make of Thomas? What does it make of Thomas if he could love Flint if Flint hadn’t killed his father, but was still killing others? </p>
<p>“I’ll take the bowl,” Flint relents. </p>
<p>Thomas scoops out a bowl for him, and Flint chooses to stand and eat rather than sit. There’s a heavy sense of anticipation. Thomas would like to be vindicated in his first attempts at cooking. Even if it isn’t the finest soup ever had, it should at least be palatable. He’s tasted it himself! It’s good! He’s not sure why he’s so nervous now for Flint’s verdict. </p>
<p>“Well?” Miranda asks. Thomas isn’t sure if she’s hoping for it to be horrible or not. </p>
<p>Flint’s cold expression cracks, “This is water,” he says. He sounds… suspicious. </p>
<p>Thomas is stunned into a cross mood, “There are vegetables in it. It’s soup!” </p>
<p>Flint looks to Miranda for assistance, and then back to Thomas, “This is hot water,” he insists, and glances down at it before adding, “with potatoes.” </p>
<p>Miranda laughs so loudly and suddenly that she startles both men. Thomas feels his face get hot. </p>
<p>“It can’t be ‘just water’!” he whines. Miranda’s laughter is infectious, unfortunately, and Thomas cannot help but laugh with her. So much for being a latent cooking prodigy. </p>
<p>He happens to look up as Flint is looking at Miranda, and sees the moment that the corners of Flint’s eyes crease as he smiles. His face relaxes, and it’s like a veil being lifted. Thomas feels gutted because there he is— that’s James. </p>
<p>James realizes he’s being watched, and the mask slams back down. He’s Flint, and he’s dropping the bowl onto the counter like it’s burning him. </p>
<p>“I have to go,” he insists. </p>
<p>“James,” Miranda calls. She didn’t see what happened. Thomas can hear it in her voice. She doesn’t know why Flint spooked. Thomas is stunned at the shift. Flint is already halfway out the door.</p>
<p>“James!” Thomas shouts, and he sees Flint freeze. </p>
<p>He looks up at Thomas, gaze hard and ready for a fight. </p>
<p>Miranda thought Flint might be scared of much he cares for them. That it could be the shock of having his lovers return from death causing him to act cold. Thomas thought she was fantasizing. </p>
<p>He should know better by now. For all that he’s applauded as a smart man, his wife will always have the better of him. </p>
<p>Flint is held in Thomas’s summon, but not for long. Thomas wants to beg him to stay, but even he knows trying to force James against his will is an impossible task. James is fleeing them, that much is clear. They exposed him, and saw him exposed, and now he needs distance. </p>
<p>Thomas’ heart aches. He wants James to trust them with his smiles. </p>
<p>It’s completely at odds with the sickening revelation that James killed his father and friend. </p>
<p>“Safe travels,” Thomas says, unable to say anything else. </p>
<p>Flint studies him a moment, tilts his head curiously as he takes in Thomas’ farewell. He nods acknowledgement, and is out the door without a further word. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Should we go to see him off?” Thomas offers, when the night is dark, the house is quiet, and he and Miranda are alone. </p>
<p>She gives him a curious look. </p>
<p>“James,” Thomas says, though he thinks she’s well aware of who he is talking about, “if he’s going tomorrow. Should we see him off?” </p>
<p>If Miranda wants to continue seeing him, to try and build a relationship with him again, then Thomas will support her. </p>
<p>It’s conflicting emotions, for him. He wants James, he wants to see James and have him near. And he’s repulsed by Flint. There’s a healthy amount of fear, if Thomas is to be honest with himself. </p>
<p>“No,” Miranda says, “I don’t think we should.” </p>
<p>Even if she were James’ wife, Thomas doesn’t think Miranda would go to the pier to see him off. She’s far too private with her actions of affection. She would find it silly to go stand and watch a ship sail away. </p>
<p>Thomas himself knew it was ridiculous even as he voiced it. But, just in case, he wanted to hold out the option.</p>
<p>Miranda pauses, and looks at him quizzically, “Do <em>you</em> want to see him off?” </p>
<p>Yes. No. Somewhat. </p>
<p>When James had gone on the mission to Nassau, and left them for three months, Thomas had been left depressed and prone to wallowing in his sad moods. He’d complained often that, proper society be damned, he wished he’d gone to see James off properly. Of course, they’d spent lots of time together before he’d gone, it was no surprise that he was leaving. And they’d said proper goodbyes, and James had even bitten a mark into Thomas’ thigh that ached ever so slightly as Thomas walked, so Thomas would be thinking about him for the whole week it took to heal. </p>
<p>It had been a complete fantasy, of course. To do so would have resulted in, well, their love affair would have ended much earlier than it ultimately did. And now that the worst has happened, perhaps Thomas would be bold enough to kiss his lover in broad daylight. </p>
<p>That was then, and this is now. Thomas wonders what it would spur Flint to do, if he were to kiss him. </p>
<p>Thomas wonders what he would do, if Flint were to kiss him. </p>
<p>A part of him thinks he would reject him. </p>
<p>Thomas shakes his head to clear his thoughts and answer Miranda’s question, “Just thinking out loud.” </p>
<p>“If we are to have a proper stable by tomorrow,” Miranda changes course, “we should look at finding a horse, then. If your ankle isn’t recovered, I can go into town myself to ask around.”</p>
<p>“If you leave me tomorrow, I will be forced to cook,” Thomas warns her. </p>
<p>Miranda laughs, “Your cooking, dear husband, was so bad it drove <em>the</em> Captain Flint to flee our house. I will remain until you can be left to make your lesson plans and not kill people in our employ.” </p>
<p>“It wasn’t the cooking,” Thomas admits. It sounds like he’s playing along, insisting that his soup wasn’t that bland. Miranda had salvaged it, thankfully. </p>
<p>“You are a man of many skills,” Miranda assures him, still thinking they are joking, “and I did not marry you for your cooking, I promise—” </p>
<p>“It was you,” Thomas blurts out, and he hesitates before adding, “he left because of you. Because of me. Us.”</p>
<p>Miranda’s good humor slides off of her face, “What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“We were laughing,” Thomas says, and he feels like he’s divulging a secret, “and James— well, it was like I finally saw him, James, for the first time. He smiled at you, when you weren’t looking. And I saw him, but he realized I’d seen it. And I saw Flint come over him. And he left.” </p>
<p>Miranda considers the news carefully, thinking about what Thomas has revealed to her. </p>
<p>“He doesn’t want to be known,” she muses, “so he is keeping us at a distance.” </p>
<p>“I should get tired of saying this,” Thomas says, with some cheer, “but you were right. I think he does care for us, but either he wishes not to, or he can’t allow himself to.” </p>
<p>The entire mythos of Flint is that he is the avatar of rage. He is fear and war and blood. It is completely incompatible with being in love. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The carpenters arrive later than Thomas expects, closer to noon. By unspoken choice, neither he nor Miranda have mentioned that James has left the island, sailing off to do harm out in the world. But Thomas knows he is on both of their minds. </p>
<p>The reason for the men's late arrival becomes clear as they come up the path to the house. Along with their mule, pulling their supplies and tools, there is a horse and cart with them.</p>
<p>"The Captain said to bring them," is the explanation Thomas receives. </p>
<p>The horse is a lovely bay. A lovely brown coat, dark mane and tail, and a soft white coloring on her nose. Miranda takes to her quickly. </p>
<p>"Where did she come from?" Thomas asks. </p>
<p>"Captain Flint asked me to pick her up on my way here," the man shrugs, "I was told it was all paid for, just had to deliver her."</p>
<p>It's why Flint had stopped in to talk to the men, Thomas knows now. He had arranged a horse and cart by the time he'd come to see them, and hadn't even mentioned it. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>"Are we being courted?" Miranda wonders over dinner. </p>
<p>Thomas is unsure of how to answer that. He's accustomed to receiving gifts from suitors, but they usually come with some level of flirtations from the sender. Flint has, at every chance he gets, tried to flee them and keeps his distance. But then he also does this. </p>
<p>"Perhaps he thinks he has to win our favor," Thomas guesses.</p>
<p>"Can gifts attain that goal?" Miranda asks. <em>Can you forgive him for killing your father?</em> </p>
<p>It's not enough, and objects alone could never be enough. Thomas doesn't know what makes the scales shift in the face of what violence Flint has done. </p>
<p>Thomas needed a horse and cart to make his school work. Flint said he would support that. Maybe this is strictly business. Maybe Thomas shouldn't read into it. </p>
<p>"It's a start," he says instead, and tries to believe it.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thank you everyone for all the comments and feedback! You keep me writing &lt;33</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Chapter 4</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I got to write some of my fav pov's this chapter. I love snarky too-smart-for-their-own-good characters. They're just so FUN and chatty. </p><p>Enjoy the Ranger trio (aka 2 feral wolves and their dandy) as they find themselves bored and make that everyone else's problem!!</p><p>There's a lot of ambiguity and lack-of-defining relationships in the show itself that I always appreciated, and I want to keep that going here. So, if you're reading and you go 'well this sounds pretty romantic???', yes! It probably is! And isn't! At the same time, lol.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“What other boring shit are you gonna do today?” Anne asks, and then takes an obnoxiously juicy bite out of the apple she’d brought with her. </p><p>“Darling it’s called administrative work,” Jack insists, and waves a hand at her, “and it’s not <em>boring</em>, this is how we build a legitimate society.” </p><p>“We run the place, why the fuck we need papers?” she groans. </p><p>“If this waiting is so difficult on you, perhaps you could help and speed up the process?” Jack offers. </p><p>Anne props her feet up on the desk, and takes another bite of her apple. </p><p>“Of course, how silly of me,” Jack agrees, “well, considering how much I love reading and writing when I could be out doing literally anything else… I suppose my afternoon is booked.” </p><p>Anne grimaces at his tone, “You love bein’ the smart one.” </p><p>Jack sighs, caught out, “Yes I do. And yet, in this moment, I feel like Hercules in his labours.” </p><p>This work is very important, this is true. Jack doesn’t trust nearly anyone to handle this sort of thing, and he’d be running a very close eye over it were anyone else to handle this. It’s right that he’s the one doing this. </p><p>For a time, Flint was helping draft legislations and policies. While the man was deceptively intelligent, Jack hated to be stuck in the same room with him. One never knew when he’d fly into a mood and kill everyone, or if he had already set out the plans to do so. Plus, he was so convinced of his own righteousness, and victory over Woodes Rogers had only heightened that sense. He never shut up about his great war.</p><p>Sure, the man was one of the greatest pirates to ever live. But he was irritating. </p><p>The door to the office opens, and Charles strolls in. </p><p>“Thank god,” Jack sighs, “please tell me something interesting is happening.” </p><p>“Actually, I came to save Anne,” Charles shrugs. </p><p>Jack groans and rubs at his eyes, “Is it too much to ask for just a little drama in the streets? One brawl to break up, maybe one colonial ship to hunt? I haven’t left this desk in a lifetime.”</p><p>“You are getting fat,” Charles adds helpfully. </p><p>Jack scowls at him. Anne laughs so hard she snorts. </p><p>“Well how’s it going?” Charles checks, “are we legitimate pirates yet?” </p><p>“I’m going to write you off the island,” Jack threatens, "it will be illegal to be my horrible, mean friend, Charles Vane."</p><p>“You’d be lost without me,” Charles says, and he moves into the room to grab an extra chair and sits down by Anne. He said he’d come to rescue Anne, but committing to staying means he’s now decided to try and keep Jack company because Jack said he was struggling. Jack still marvels at how he won Charles’ friendship, but he’ll never regret it. </p><p>“I’ve come to accept that I cannot be rid of you,” Jack says, “no matter what I do, you always come back to bother me. So, I suppose I'll have to let you stay.”</p><p>“Fuck you, Jack,” Charles says. Anne giggles. </p><p>Jack goes back to working, trying to read and hide his smile. It’s good to have friends. </p><p>The silence lasts only a short while before he becomes aware that his companions are fidgeting. Bless them for trying, but neither of them has the good graces to sit idly. </p><p>“If you must go, then go,” Jack dismisses them, “I will miss you, but I will survive a few hours on my own.” </p><p>“Come have food,” Anne insists, “if I leave you alone, you’ll forget to eat, I know it.” </p><p>“That scholar, the new man on the island, he’s due to be opening his school today. Thought I might go see how that’s coming along,” Charles adds. </p><p>“Is that the guy everyone’s saying Flint tried to kill?” Anne asks. </p><p>Jack's curiosity is piqued. </p><p>“I heard Flint knew him from before Nassau,” Charles says, “but he looked like he’d had the fright of his life when he left the meeting with him.” </p><p>Oh, how can Jack resist that?</p><p>“Is this man scary?” Jack checks, “was he a… a judge? Someone with power?” </p><p>“He’s a scholar,” Charles reminds Jack, “I don’t think he’s worked a day in his life.”</p><p>The three of them all scoff at the idea. </p><p>“Well what are we waiting for?” Jack says, “a man comes to tell a bunch of pirates just how stupid they are? I, for one, cannot wait to see the bloodbath.” </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>A few moments later they find themselves on the sand, watching an unfamiliar blonde man, his wife, Featherstone and Max set up a tent. The unfamiliar people do such a poor job of it that people passing by stop to help them out. </p><p>“We’re supposed to be supporting this, aren’t we?” Jack recalls. </p><p>“Yeah,” Charles agrees. </p><p>By unspoken agreement the three of them relocate a few steps to the right so they will be better obscured from view. </p><p>The unfamiliar man— Jack met him once, he thinks. Maybe it was in passing? Maybe Max mentioned him? He was so completely unremarkable that Jack can’t even recall his name. </p><p>They see the man earnestly shake the hands of the few men who stopped in to help pitch the tent, and then invite them in. Trying to recruit, supposedly. He’s turned down, and the men leave. </p><p>Max slides over to speak to him as they watch the wife and Featherstone begin unloading crates from the cart they’ve pulled onto the sand. </p><p>“So that’s the man?” Jack says, because no one else is saying anything. </p><p>“How long til someone punches him for insulting them?” Anne asks, “cause that’s what I’d do if some English fuck told me I was dumb.”</p><p>“Well that’s because you’re not,” Jack assures her. He squints at the man. He’s sunburned in the face, and red from the heat. It’s not an appealing look by any means. His wife looks older, with a fair face. Overall, they are both drab and disappointing and neither of them inspire any sort of curiosity in him. </p><p>“And you’re <em>sure</em> this is the man that Flint spooked over?” Jack checks. </p><p>Charles grunts an affirmation. </p><p>Jack waits a moment, to let either of his companions add a thought, before he states the obvious, “Why?” </p><p>“You could just ask him?” Anne offers, “all this snooping around is excessive.” </p><p>“We aren’t snooping,” Jack defends himself. Charles makes another agreeable sound. Grown men and pirate captains do not snoop. That’s ridiculous. </p><p>“We’ll get Max to have the girls snoop,” Jack announces, “when the <em>Walrus</em> and Flint are back, they can ask around and find out why Flint was so bothered by this man.”</p><p>“You think Flint’s a talker?” Charles scoffs.</p><p>“Everyone’s a talker after a week abroad,” Jack insists. </p><p>Anne scrunches her nose as she thinks, “Does Flint even go to the brothel? I can’t say I can imagine him fucking.” </p><p>Jack feels equally disturbed at the thought. Charles makes a similar face. </p><p>“He’s a man,” Charles scoffs, “of course he does.”</p><p>Jack opens his mouth to agree, and then pauses, “As much as I hate the image you’ve put into my head… I don't believe I recall Flint ever coming in unless it was on business.” </p><p>“He probably comes in when you’re not there to bother him,” Anne suggests. </p><p>“I don’t bother people!” Jack defends himself. </p><p>“A man has to fuck!” Charles insists, “that’s what men do!” </p><p>“That’s all men do,” Anne says dismissively. </p><p>“If he’s not at the brothel, then he’s getting it somewhere else,” Jack reasons. </p><p>“You think Flint keeps a secret concubine on this island and none of us know about it?” Charles asks. </p><p>“Well I haven’t really been thinking about who Flint fucks until this second,” Jack says, “and I still can’t believe I am right now.”</p><p>“He’d have to be paying some good money to keep her quiet,” Anne reasons, “I don’t think he’s got someone. Unless he’s got a wife?”</p><p>Jack and Vane both laugh out loud at the thought. Marriage had never occurred to either of them, in regards to Flint. </p><p>“What kind of poor soul would marry <em>him</em>?” Jack asks, and shudders at the thought. </p><p>“We would definitely know if Flint was making a home somewhere on Nassau,” Charles says decisively, “he’s not married.” </p><p>“If he’s not fucking at the brothel, and he’s not fucking a wife… then where?” Jack asks. </p><p>“I’m done with this conversation,” Charles says. </p><p>“Maybe he hasn’t got anything to fuck with?” Anne offers. </p><p>A horrified silence falls over the three of them. </p><p>“No,” Charles says. </p><p>“It’s plausible,” Jack reasons. </p><p>“No,” Charles says again. </p><p>“Well, has anyone seen the man naked?” Jack asks. He feels like he’s been hit in the head by Anne’s words, and now he’s dazed and trying to reorient himself. </p><p>Anne is delighted to have disturbed the both of them so thoroughly. </p><p>“Probably explains why he’s so angry all the time,” she adds. </p><p>Jack gapes at her, and her grin grows wide and toothy at his look. </p><p>“I feel like you are my other half, and that I don’t know you at all,” Jack insists. </p><p>They fall silent, watching the school being set up, and contemplating the awful train of thought they found themselves on. Jack’s stomach growls and Anne holds out what’s left of her apple. He takes it without a word. It’s delicious. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Max waits with Lady McGraw as Featherstone and Mr. McGraw finish securing the tent.</p><p>"I appreciate your support for my husband's idea," Lady McGraw says, "though forgive me for saying that I am surprised by it."</p><p>"I see potential," Max offers her, "it is unorthodox, yes, but if we are to build a future for Nassau, there must be opportunity for her people as well. I believe your husband sees that too. And it is… a relief to speak with someone who has visions for the future."</p><p>It was also a relief to speak with someone as genuine and earnest as Mr. McGraw. The enthusiasm, and joy he had in this task were infectious. It’s difficult to not be charmed by him. Max hopes he can maintain that charm in the face of the resistance he will face. </p><p>“I suppose they are few in number here,” Lady McGraw jokes. </p><p>“Yes,” Max agrees, “and the ones that do think forwards are either obsessed with their legacy, or warmongering.” </p><p>Lady McGraw falls silent. Max wants to tell her she will need thicker skin, to be less afraid, when the concept of piracy comes up. She is in Nassau and that kind of meek showing will have her overwhelmed by the island. </p><p>“Captain Flint drives this war, so I understand?” Lady McGraw says. </p><p>Max’s interest is aroused. Such an innocent question, a natural flow of the conversation. She’s well aware that Captain Flint looked like he’d seen a ghost upon beholding Mr. McGraw’s face. Speculation for that has been the gossip in Nassau for a few days now, especially on the heels of Flint leaving the island. He’s not here to subdue rumors, and so they grow. </p><p>Is Lady McGraw making conversation, or inquiring about Flint himself? </p><p>“Captain Flint is one of the men who can see beyond tomorrow. And is one of the most educated people in Nassau. It is why I asked him to endorse your husband,” Max says, “but the future he sees is one of smoke and death. I believe he will not be content until he has burned the world down.” </p><p>“Any man would fail in such pursuits,” Lady McGraw says idly, “the fight alone would kill him.” </p><p>“Yes,” Max agrees, and studies Lady McGraw’s face. What is she thinking? Was Flint a friend to her? Does she hope for his death? Does she know her husband knew Flint? </p><p>It’s because she is looking at Lady McGraw that Max notices the faces of her partners a short distance away doing their best to be inconspicuous. </p><p>As if her beautiful Anne could ever go without catching her eye. </p><p>Max sees the exact moment the three of them realize they’ve been spotted. To their credit they do not shy away, and neither do they act ashamed of being caught. </p><p>“We have company,” Max says to Lady McGraw, which is as much warning as she can give her. </p><p>“You are just in time for lessons,” Max says. </p><p>“With all due respect,” Jack says, “I think I’m beyond learning to read.” </p><p>“Yes, of course,” Max agrees, “but it would do well to see you supporting it.” </p><p>“I would,” Jack says, and sighs dramatically, “but I am such a busy man. You happened to catch me on a short break.” </p><p>It’s a bullshit excuse and they both know it. </p><p>Featherstone and Mr. McGraw have noticed the newcomers and came to join them. Mr. McGraw makes for an imposing figure, with his surprising height and broad shoulders. He looks more like a man one would find in Nassau, than a scholar. This gives him an air of authority, and Max sees both Jack and Vane square their shoulders in response. Jack is nearly the same height, but Jack has always had a slimmer build. It’s why he allies himself with men who have the physicality to demand the respect Jack wants. </p><p>“Welcome! Have you come to learn?” Mr. McGraw asks excitedly.</p><p>“I can read very well, thank you,” Jack says. </p><p>“I don’t need fucking arithmetic,” Anne snaps. Vane looks all too delighted by his companions’ rudeness. Max would be content if he would find himself busy somewhere else. </p><p>Mr. McGraw, on the other hand, is clearly unsure of how to act at being insulted. </p><p>“May I introduce Captain Jack Rackham, Anne Bonny, and Captain Vane,” Max interrupts, “everyone, this is Mr. and Mrs. McGraw."</p><p>Max watches for recognition in the McGraw's faces. Vane has the pleasure of getting the largest reaction. Lady McGraw is more reserved than her husband, only a slight widening of her eyes gives her away. Her husband’s mouth drops open at the mention of the names. </p><p>"Gentlemen," Mr. McGraw recovers first, and extends a hand, “an honor to meet the governing lords of Nassau. Please, call me Thomas.”</p><p>Jack wrinkles his nose as he squints at Mr. McGraw, and Max knows immediately that he’s come here to be an ass. At least, more than he usually is. It’s likely Vane’s presence. Jack is often quite tolerable without his barbarian friend, “A pleasure? Really?”</p><p>“To stand before the men who fought off England herself and created a free colony? Yes, it is an honor,” Thomas says. </p><p>Jack’s smile is lopsided, and Max wishes she could knock him upside the head. He’s about to say something clever and rude. </p><p>“Anne did more fighting than I did, truly,” Jack says, gesturing to his partner. Anne has a harsher scowl than she normally wears, indicating she’s already decided she doesn’t like the McGraw’s.  </p><p>Thomas looks surprised by the notion, “Oh, of— of course. Ma’am, it is an honor. It’s because of you that we made the move to Nassau, to live in freedom.” </p><p>“Thomas,” Vane says slowly, drawing out the name, “you come here after the fighting is done, and you want to be a part of Nassau’s story? As what, the man who brings poetry and books to Nassau? You think that’s something important?” </p><p>Jack and Anne have gone quiet, listening to Vane. They both hang on his words like he’s the smartest amongst them. Remnants of his authority when they called him Captain, Max supposes. One day she’d like to see that tie severed, but that likely won’t happen until Vane is dead. </p><p>“Yes,” Thomas says. Max can’t decide if he’s stupid or purposefully ignoring the aggressiveness of the pirates, “I think all men have the right to learn and become better. Besides, a school gives men a future beyond fighting. It allows for thought outside of what a man thinks he knows. An expanding of his horizons.”</p><p>Vane chuckles, and there’s no humor to it, “You think there’s a future here without violence? Beyond it, even?”</p><p>“I have to think so,” Thomas says, “or else what’s the point?”</p><p>“I’ll tell you what I think,” Vane says, and he hasn’t gone for his sword or pistol yet, but that doesn’t mean he won’t cause violence anyways. Max stands ready to interrupt him should he attack Thomas, “I think England sent some of the most enlightened men she had. I think they came to spread this enlightenment, to settle Nassau and save her from violence. And do you know what happened to them? We killed them all. Me, Jack, Anne. Teach. Flint. And every pirate here. We ran them down in the streets and on the water and we killed as many of these learned men as we could get our hands on. And I don’t think the fact that they’ve read more books than I have helped them one bit. I think a man is made on his actions, and sitting around talking about what you think the world should be is completely different from getting up and making it happen.”</p><p>“There’s a unique way of life here,” Thomas agrees, “I can understand how people would misunderstand it, and want to change it to what they know.”</p><p>Vane laughs, “What you, and every noble asshole from Europe needs to understand is that Nassau was never ‘lost’ to violence, Nassau <em>is</em> violence. This is what freedom looks like. And you would come here to try and tame that.” </p><p>Max can’t quite decide if Thomas McGraw is brave or stupid, to be picking a fight with Charles Vane. She also supposes, at this point, that it’s likely he’s sheltered and naive enough to believe the words he says. In any case, Thomas making an enemy of Vane is the last thing she needs. </p><p>“Tame you? Oh, no, sir. I wouldn’t dream of it. In fact, I admire your dedication to your goals,” Thomas says, “it’s rare to see that kind of commitment.” </p><p>Max senses an impending fight. Vane scowls as if he can’t decide if he’s being insulted or not, and Max doesn’t have it in herself to determine that either. Jack and Anne glance nervously between Thomas and Vane. </p><p>“If the three of you are not here to engage, perhaps you can help by spreading word that the school is open,” Max offers, “and we will be on with our day.” </p><p>While Jack is frustrating to deal with, he is smart enough to steer his companions away from bad decisions when he can. Max trusts him to do so right now.</p><p>“Oh, before you go!” Thomas says, and leaves the group to go for one of the boxes he brought with him. Max resists rolling her eyes. Men! Useless! </p><p>“Just one more thing,” Jack says, because today appears to be another day to test Max’s patience with all of them, he says to Lady McGraw, “I’ve heard rumors that Thomas and Captain Flint were acquainted once upon a time? Can you elaborate on why the sight of your husband made one of the most dreaded pirates in history nearly jump out of his skin?”</p><p>“My husband occasionally worked with the navy,” Lady McGraw speaks up, having been silent this whole time, “we made acquaintance with… with Flint. During that time. We lost contact with him when he left England, and thought him dead. Apparently, he thought the same. I can imagine coming face to face with a dead friend would give anyone a surprise.”</p><p>“What was he like?” Anne asks curiously, and her grin is toothy and wolfish as she adds, “did England cut off his dick?”</p><p>“Darling!” Jack groans, not taking any shock to this comment which means they’ve been discussing this before. Anne laughs out loud at Vane’s glower. </p><p>Lady McGraw looks stunned by the question. </p><p>“Well,” Jack says, “we were going to ask later, but I suppose it can’t be helped now. Max, love, we’ve been thinking hard on it, but none of us can recall who Flint’s favorite girl at the house is. Does he rotate? How often does he actually come in?” </p><p>If Max had a pistol, she thinks she might just shoot Jack in the mouth. </p><p>“This is perhaps a conversation we should never have,” Max says, “let alone with our present company.” </p><p>Lady McGraw recovers, though her face looks flushed. Perhaps it’s the heat, or more likely it’s the shock of how different Nassau must be from the home she left behind. Max would like to make the McGraw’s comfortable here so that they continue to stay and provide their services. </p><p>“I do not pretend such things are not a necessity, especially when there are no better options. People must find their comforts somewhere,” Lady McGraw says, "do not censor yourselves for my sake." </p><p>All eyes turn to Max. </p><p>“He does not have a girl,” Max relents. Hopefully that is enough to end this conversation.</p><p>“That’s unusual,” Lady McGraw comments, and her tone is so exaggerated she nearly gives herself away, “did she leave the island?”</p><p>Max files away the observation for later. What information is she looking for?</p><p>“As far as I know he only visits for business, not pleasure,” Max says, “he’s deeply mistrustful of the girls.”</p><p>Jack, Anne and Vane scowl in the face of this news. Apparently it wasn't the answer they were looking for. Why they are suddenly interested in Flint’s sex life, Max cannot understand. It’s well known that Flint is aware of how the girls are used to gather information, and considering the fact that he’s been so antagonistic to every other Captain on the island until the last six months, it is not surprising that he has avoided any place where he would actively be spied on. </p><p>“Was he married? When you knew him?” Jack asks Lady McGraw. </p><p>She shakes her head, “No. I don’t believe he was.”</p><p>“He wouldn’t be holding out because he has a wife in London,” Vane scoffs, “he’s been in Nassau, what, ten years? He’s fucked since then.”</p><p>Max has to agree with Vane on that. There’s love and commitment, but then also basic human needs. Too long without sex drives a person insane. Perhaps that is why they are speculating on Flint’s bedroom exploits, because they’re looking to draw a connection between that and Flint’s deep-seated rage. </p><p>Anne cocks her head, glancing between Jack and Vane as she says, “Starting to think he might actually be—”</p><p>“Darling,” Jack interrupts her, “as funny as it was the first time, I don’t think it will do us any good to start rumors about Flint in his absence. We all know how he can be when he’s in a mood.” </p><p>“And what’s that like?” Lady McGraw asks. </p><p>Without Thomas present to size up against, both Jack and Vane seem unsure whether they should be openly hostile or polite to Lady McGraw. Max watches the Lady carefully. There’s something… too smooth about the way she’s voicing her questions. She’s acting uninterested, but as Max and the others are aware, she does have past ties to Flint. Should they be careful in how they talk about him? Or does she have no allegiance to him? </p><p>In any case, Max is sure the Lady is fishing for information and using Jack and Vane’s underestimation of her to do so. </p><p>“Like a storm,” Vane offers, “once he’s set in a path, it doesn’t matter what’s in his way. He’ll destroy it all until he gets what he wants.” </p><p>“Sounds like you know him well, Captain,” Lady McGraw says. Max notes the quiet flattery, stroking Vane’s pride to try and get him to reveal more secrets. </p><p>Vane snorts, “Sure I know Flint. I spent the better part of the time I knew him trying to kill him. Helped him sack Charles Town. So, whatever that makes us.”</p><p>Before the conversation can continue, Thomas returns. </p><p>“Here, Captain, I’d be delighted to hear your thoughts on this,” he says and he holds out a book for Vane. </p><p>Vane studies it like it’s a drawn pistol, and looks up at Thomas for clarification. </p><p>Max wonders if Mr. McGraw has any sense to him at all, and if it’s worth the effort it’s going to take to keep him alive in Nassau if he’s going to be this foolish with every pirate he meets. </p><p>“It is a gift,” Thomas says, sensing the tension for perhaps the first time, “you do not have to take it if—”</p><p>Vane snatches the book from his hand. Max hopes Thomas won’t be upset when Vane’s fingers leave greasy streaks on the nice binding. </p><p>“See you ‘round, Professor,” Vane says with a laugh, and backs away. Anne follows without a word. </p><p>“Ladies, Sirs,” Jack says, and gives them an exaggerated bow, before he makes his exit as well. </p><p>Max puts her back to the retreating three so neither of the McGraw’s have to. </p><p>“I apologize for the intrusion,” she says. Though she cannot apologize for them entirely. The McGraw’s will have to live with the truth of how Nassau is. </p><p>“I think I can win them over,” Thomas says cheerfully. He spies some men who had begun to lurk nearby, seeing Vane, Jack and Anne talking to the newcomer, and Thomas heads right for them to draw them under the shade of his tent.</p><p>Lady McGraw watches him intently. </p><p>“Your husband is… bold. Nassau is not a place that rewards that kind of boldness very often” Max says carefully. Calling him stupid is too aggressive, but she would like to inform the Lady of what Nassau will do to her husband if she does not get some sense into him. </p><p>“The term I have come to use for my husband is ‘recklessly optimistic’,” Lady McGraw says with an air of defeat, though she’s smiling fondly as she watches her husband coax a few more men into listening to him, “and if I thought it was possible to change him I would have done so by now. Ten years in exile did not change him. I warn you not to waste your time with that endeavor.”</p><p>Her smile is still friendly when she looks to Max, but the words are clear. Thomas McGraw will be as he is, even if what he is is… foolish. Soft. Lady McGraw will see to it that he remains that way. </p><p>There is a love there that Max can respect, even, perhaps, understand. And a veiled threat as to the opposition Max may face should she attempt to restrain Thomas in any way. </p><p>Max herself had appreciated Thomas’ charm. He was a handsome man, who spoke respectfully and wanted to help bring a stable future to Nassau. She’d dismissed him as a dreamer, as someone who would be content with a small salary and to talk himself hoarse as he taught the locals how to manage their earnings or to read basic correspondences. </p><p>There’s a depth to the two of them Max hadn’t anticipated. She’d wanted to form a closer bond to them before prying for details on Flint’s previous life, if only to get some perspective on the man that didn’t come swaddled in legend and tell-tales. </p><p>Old friends? Max can believe that. But she’s not stupid. She knows there’s more to the story. How much of it is important? Likely nothing. But this is fodder for gossip, on an island obsessed with Flint’s reputation. It would be smart to be ahead of everyone else, if only to know when to prepare for Flint’s ire. </p><p>“So, you run the brothel?” Lady McGraw asks idly. </p><p>“Yes,” Max says, “I own most of the business in Nassau. The brothel happens to be one of the most lucrative.” </p><p>“I can imagine,” Lady McGraw says, and she glances about at the men milling about on the beach, “do you deal with much competition?” </p><p>What information she is looking for, Max can’t quite understand. </p><p>“Are you looking to become a Madame?” Max asks. </p><p>Lady McGraw laughs, and shakes her head, “No, no. I would not fare well in such an environment, I think. I was simply curious. I’m still getting the lay of the land here, of course.”</p><p>“I have the only one in town,” Max says, and decides to add, “if you should hear of anyone else opening a… business in town, I would appreciate it if you would let me know. I don’t appreciate competition.”</p><p>“Neither do I,” Lady McGraw agrees. She looks delighted. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>John Silver sprawls on his back, stretching out in the luxury of Madi’s soft sheets and wide bed. His chest heaves with exertion as his breathing slows to a relaxed state. </p><p>Beside him, Madi pants in equal measure. She’s been unusually quiet since they retreated to her room for the night. </p><p>“Love,” he speaks up, breaking the intimate scene, “what’s on your mind?” </p><p>She rolls onto her side to face him. Her eyes are sharp, and Silver feels suddenly like a bird cornered by a hungry cat. She often makes him feel like this. It’s absolutely thrilling. </p><p>“Captain Flint,” she says bluntly, and with no care for softening her words she says, “he’s on your mind too, isn’t he?” </p><p>“Up until this second you were the only one in my thoughts,” Silver lies with a laugh. </p><p>Madi doesn’t smile, but her eyes crinkle at the edges. She knows he’s lying, but she likes that he is. She rolls onto her back to look at the ceiling. </p><p>“What happened?” she asks, “he seems… unfocused.” </p><p>Unfocused isn’t the half of it. For a man built out of grand gestures and decisive action, it’s the small details that reveal his inner workings. Catching glimpses of the man through gaps in his armor is the only way to understand the depths of his thoughts, and Silver may be the only one in the world who knows where to look to even find those. </p><p>At least, he used to be the only man. Now he shares this position. </p><p>Flint has been on edge. He’s angrier than normal, possibly scared, and it’s making him aggressive. He’s not thinking clearly, and gets lost in thought. He spent much of the voyage in his quarters, brooding, or staring out into the water. Silver hadn’t known how to broach the conversation with him. He doesn’t know what he needs to say to Flint, or what Flint needs to hear. </p><p>“Do you remember, when we drew the English forces here, of the night Flint shared his true story with me?” Silver asks. </p><p>Madi does not look at him, but she nods her head in acknowledgement. Silver had shared those details with her, to aid her in understanding Flint’s need for bloodshed. He’d originally hoped it would help her understand that Flint would never be able to let go of his war. That a man driven by grief and loss and injustice could never be satisfied until the whole world burns. He’d shared it to help her realize that supporting the war would lead to all of their deaths, and that she should help Silver steer Flint away from open war. </p><p>Instead Madi had grown closer to Flint for it. His pain flared her anger at the world, and Silver regrets his mistake now in allowing two kindred souls to connect that intimately, and recognize something similar in the other. </p><p>“The people he loved, the Hamilton’s, that he lost,” Silver says, and it feels like an ill omen, to be saying their names out loud here in the dark. Could they be summoned the same way they have crawled out of the graves Flint left them in, to arrive in Nassau?</p><p>Silver almost says his name, the man he’d met briefly just two days ago that started it all. He wants to say he does not believe in superstition, but there is power in words. He knows this. A name is a very powerful thing. They’ve spent months now making giving Flint’s name the power to cause fear in a way very few men have ever experienced. </p><p>“Flint was mistaken,” Silver says, sidestepping the names and further explanations, “they are not dead. And they’ve just arrived in Nassau.” </p><p>Madi goes still beside him. It can be difficult to know in which way she will spring when she tenses like this. </p><p>“How?” she demands.</p><p>Silver shakes his head, “Flint is difficult to talk to, right now. He’s avoiding me, and I haven’t pushed.” </p><p>“Does he— has he seen them?” Madi demands. </p><p>“Yes,” Silver tells her, “I know he spent a night in their home. I know he hired workmen for their home. I don’t know what’s been said or decided between them.”</p><p>“Do you think they have taken him back?” Madi asks. </p><p>“He’s here,” Silver points out, “so he hasn’t left us.”</p><p>“A man cannot have a safe home, and go to war like it is his job,” Madi snaps, and she sits up, “why would you not tell me this?” </p><p>“I don’t know what to think!” Silver admits, “I am seeing my friend in the face of his unmaking, and I don’t know if I should stop it or not.”</p><p>“Of course you must stop it!” Madi insists, “if we lose Flint we lose! He is the only one with the drive to keep pushing forwards. Without him we do not have a war!” </p><p><em>You don’t have a war</em>, Silver thinks to himself, but he does not say it out loud. </p><p>“What if this is a sign. Flint has always said he wanted to see an end to this, to leave piracy one day, and walk away from the sea. Is this not his dream come true, in the most unexpected way?”</p><p>Madi is not moved by his words. </p><p>“What would you do if he returns home to them?” she asks, “what will you do when this war crumbles, your Captain— your friend— is gone, and all we have worked and sacrificed for means nothing?”</p><p>“I will miss him,” Silver says, “and I will wake up in the morning, and live a life.” </p><p>“Do you want him to go?” Madi asks, “are you avoiding him so he will go to these people? Because you know you are the only one with the power to persuade him otherwise.”</p><p>“I’m terrified to lose him,” Silver admits, “I have never known a man like I know him. I have never <em>been</em> known like he knows me. I am terrified to know what losing him might do to me. We are so conjoined that the loss may kill me just as it will kill him.” </p><p>“I won’t lose you,” Madi promises. </p><p>“You may not have a choice,” Silver admits, “you love me as I am, now, but what I am is what I am when Flint and I are of one mind.” </p><p>“Then we cannot lose him,” Madi says, “I will not lose you. I will not lose him. I cannot lose this war. It means too much.” </p><p>Silver looks up at the dark ceiling. He feels traitorous, and yet, there is some relief at being resolute in a plan. At having a destination, a goal. </p><p>“So we take Flint’s happiness from him?” Silver asks. </p><p>“These people have not known him for many years,” Madi reasons, “they cannot understand him as we do. They cannot care for him as we do. You must make him understand this. If it is love he needs, he will find it here.” </p><p>Connecting with Flint the way he has, has been the most thrilling adventure of Silver’s life. He’s never been electrified by another human in this way. It’s been so exhilarating that he had never considered what it would be like to lose it, not until Flint revealed Thomas’ identity to him. </p><p>He’s been sleepless since. He worried that Flint would not come back to the beach, that first morning. He feared Flint would never step foot upon the <em>Walrus </em>again, the second day, that he would miss the launch. That the Hamilton’s had returned and stolen Flint from him like Flint never existed, only to leave Silver reeling from the killing blow. </p><p>They have a power over him, that much is clear. From the way Flint is being torn between two worlds. It would be foolish to dismiss their sway on his soul just because they haven’t known him for the last few years. Because they knew Flint as he was, as he, perhaps, thinks he can be again. </p><p>But he is Flint now. And Silver knows Flint better than any man alive. </p><p>He can make Flint see the truth. The past does not define them. They do not have to break under its weight.</p><p>“We have a few more days before we return to Nassau,” Silver says, “I can help Flint understand what is important.” </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The sun is setting as Flint finds himself approaching the McGraw home. </p><p>The <em>Walrus</em> returned home this morning. Silver had questions about Flint taking a horse for the night. About where he was going. </p><p>They all had questions, all of the men, but only the quartermaster could ask them of him and hope for a response. </p><p>He’d left Silver without an answer. </p><p>Friends go drinking together. Friends greet, spend time, and then part ways. Sometimes they reunite, sometimes they do not. </p><p>Captain Flint does not have friends. He does not make a home on land for he is made of the ocean itself. He is fear, and war, and fury. He is the breaking of chains, the vengeance for hanged men.</p><p>And here he is, bringing his horse up the path to their home. He is a snake biting its own tail. </p><p>Lights are on. The house looks good. Secure, safe. The porch is rebuilt, the stairs sturdy. The stable is renewed, and he can see the cart he purchased parked nearby. They’ll be happy here, in a good home. </p><p>He ties the horse out front, unsure of how long his stay will be. And then he walks to the front door. </p><p>It's strange, he finds, to knock. And wait on the threshold. He's used to entering scenarios where he is not welcome, and getting what he wants anyways. He enjoys the challenge. He likes stacking the odds in his favour. </p><p>He still doesn't know what he wants. Days at sea, with the single-mindedness of a hunt to make everything seem simple and clear again, brought him no answers. He is a tempest of emotions, and the spectrum of them, let alone the depth, is so foreign to him that he cannot begin to decipher it at all. </p><p>He waits, and forces himself to sit back on his heels. </p><p>Thomas opens the door, and it is still a shock to look up into his face. </p><p>“James!” he says, startled. Perhaps he still feels the shock of seeing Flint, or perhaps he hadn’t expected Flint to ever return. There’s tension in his face, conflicting emotions. Flint doesn’t know how to look at him, and ask forgiveness for killing his father. Especially when he doesn’t regret it. </p><p>“Please, come in,” Thomas says, and steps back to allow him entry. </p><p>Flint shakes his head, and doesn’t move.</p><p>“I thought you might like these,” he offers, and holds out the books he brought with him. </p><p>From inside, Flint hears the scrape of a chair on the floor. Miranda appears in the doorway moments later. </p><p>“What’s going on?” she asks. </p><p>Flint gestures with the books, and Miranda takes them out of habit rather than thinking about her actions. </p><p>“You must be tired,” Miranda says, “come inside.”</p><p>“I won’t be staying,” Flint says.</p><p>Confusion is clear on both of their faces. </p><p>“Thank you for the hospitality,” Flint says, “but I have work to do.”</p><p>“You didn’t come all this way for books,” Miranda notes. Her brow furrows and she looks cross, “what did you come for?”</p><p>“I’ve put a lot of thought into it,” Flint says, and he looks down at his feet a moment before looking up. He is stern, and resolute. For the first time since they walked back into his life, he feels clear again. It is a relief, to know his place and purpose in the world.</p><p> “I cannot pretend that you mean nothing to me. But it is dangerous for me to be distracted right now, and that is all you are. A distraction. I’m not the man you knew, and it would be best for all of us if we let the past die.”</p><p>“Do we get any say in the matter?” Thomas asks. </p><p><em>As if you wouldn’t reject me in the end</em>, Flint thinks. Silver is right. This is the easiest way. For all of them. For the future of Nassau. </p><p>Flint shakes his head, “No. I won’t call on you again.”</p><p>“James!” Miranda pleads, “don’t go— what happened? What changed?”</p><p>Flint turns and walks away from them. He pauses on the edge of the porch to look back at them one last time, “I can’t love you. You can’t love me. Let’s not waste out time pretending otherwise. Goodbye.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thanks so much for reading, and the support! I love your feedback &lt;33</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Chapter 5</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I forgot to make it suuuper clear during the last chapter, but a week passed between Flint sailing off to the Maroon Island, and then coming home (aka, the end of the last chapter when he breaks up w the Hamilton's). I'll make sure to note any significant time skips as we go on, though I'm hoping I may be able to resolve this story soon!</p>
<p>But we'll see, there are a lot of difficult emotions to navigate first!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Miranda watches the sun rise over the treetops from her seat on the porch. It had been a difficult night. James left them in a shock, and she and Thomas had spent much of the night in a stupor. Thomas had talked her down from taking Bella, riding into Nassau, finding James and demanding to know what the hell had come over him. </p>
<p><em>I can’t love you; you can’t love me</em>, he’d said. He’d said it so firmly, so surely, that there was no doubt he believed it to be the truth. But how? How could he possibly think that? </p>
<p>He’d been away for a week, and his mind had changed. Miranda wonders if he sought counsel. Who were the people who he confided in here? Who were Flint’s confidantes? </p>
<p>John Silver, she’d heard the name. Flint’s quartermaster. Thomas had met him. He was a one-legged man, which should make him easy to find. The kind of man who associates himself closely with a man like Flint would be someone that Miranda is wary to trust. </p>
<p>But what if… what if this is truly what James wants. What if it is too difficult for him to be Flint <em>and </em>be theirs? </p>
<p>Miranda doesn’t think that is the case. James has feelings for them, she’s sure of it. Life has… well, it has made things complicated. James has made choices, been forced into situations that Miranda cannot fully understand. He’s stolen, he’s fought and he’s killed. He’s declared war against the Empire. </p>
<p>There’s a strange sense of flattery, deep in Miranda’s heart, at the knowledge that her man went to war for her. That he took men into battle, to fight and kill and die, in her honor. She doesn’t think it’s polite to talk about it, let alone feel thrilled by it, but she’s long given up shame in her own heart. She hasn’t mentioned it to Thomas, at least. He’s been sleepless, stressed about the school. He’s trying to learn the language of the island, to engage with the people here, and finding it difficult. He’s brought in some men who have shown up for a few days now, but he has to get momentum and find a way to make people see why they should get an education. </p>
<p>It is a conundrum. Miranda tries to put her brain to it, but her thoughts slide back to James. </p>
<p>She misses him. She wants him. It took his rejection to make that clear. Miranda is loyal to Thomas, and will be until her death. He is her closest friend, her true love. He is the only person in the entire world who knows her well enough to ruin her. The only thing keeping her from pursuing James is the fact that Thomas has deep conflict over James’ choices. </p>
<p>Miranda was never fond of Alfred Hamilton. He was an awful man, and she wished for him to meet an early demise more often than not. Not just for the way he berated her, but also for the way he belittled and antagonized Thomas. She spent years furious with him, for driving her, Thomas and James apart, and for putting James on that ship that lead to his death. When she’d heard about his murder, she thought it was karma. </p>
<p>How right she was. </p>
<p>But still, he was Thomas’ father. As much as the world is better without him, Thomas did love him. And Miranda loves Thomas. She cannot, in any good conscience, be intimate with someone who causes Thomas such pain. </p>
<p>
  <em>Except it’s James. </em>
</p>
<p>She has never connected to someone like she did with James. Thomas is her true love, that is indisputable, but James’ mind felt like an extension of her own. Their spirits were cut from the same cloth. It was thrilling to be known like that, and to have someone in tandem with her own thoughts. James was a bridge between her and Thomas, like the missing key. He made them whole in a way no other lover had even come close to before him. Or after. </p>
<p>It was foolish, as all three of them had been in the height of the affair, but Miranda had thought theirs would be a love to last a lifetime. That at the end of their days, they would still be together. She can still picture the images of them, grey-haired, wrinkled, and reading in the gentle light of a spring day. It’s as vivid to her as if it were a memory. Miranda wonders if it is still possible to attain that kind of happiness. If she, Thomas and James are destined for a fairy tale ending. </p>
<p>It makes for a very complicated present time. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>The day is hot by the time Miranda and Thomas ride into Nassau Town. It’s delightfully busy, with merchants shouting prices, with drunks singing in the streets. Bella, their lovely bay, pays no mind to it. She has the temperament of a saint, and plods along at an even pace. </p>
<p>A few of the locals recognize them, and Miranda hears shouts of ‘Professor!’. Some are in greeting, some are mockery. Thomas is delighted to be known, and waves to all of them. </p>
<p>Max gave them some advice on how to handle themselves in Nassau. She insists that bribery goes a long way. When they arrive on the beach, there are already a few men waiting to help pitch the tent, in exchange for the breakfast Miranda has made. </p>
<p>She has never been an excellent cook, though she’s honed her craft over the years, but for men who have gone too long without a home-cooked meal, they can’t resist. </p>
<p>Miranda keeps things civil, in her greetings and interactions with the men. She’s instructed Thomas to do the same, and not to excite them. One day, Miranda thinks, they will likely get robbed, when enough people know that they are bringing food. But she hopes that if they can establish a pattern, and some respect, they may be left alone for the most part. </p>
<p>She also wonders if they should have been assaulted already, for moving about town with crates of books and paper and food. And is it their mysterious connection to James that makes people think twice about interfering with them? </p>
<p>The tent goes up quickly, and Miranda doles out the food accordingly. Thomas has optimized this time to capture the men while their mouths are full and they are less likely to turn him away, and begins his lessons. </p>
<p>He had to reassess more than he thought he would need to. Many of the men cannot read at all, or are so poor at it, that they should just forget what they learned and start over. Miranda pities them, as they cannot know how ignorant they are until they learn otherwise. </p>
<p>Thomas often teaches for the morning, breaks for the day when the men have to do work, and then picks up again in the evening. Miranda helps when she can, but can already foresee spending days at home rather than helping here at the school. For her it’s mostly boring. </p>
<p>“I don’t need to count, we got a crewman for that,” a man scoffs when Thomas tries to intrigue them with mathematics. </p>
<p>“Then you’re gonna be taken advantage of,” Charles Vane announces as he enters the tent. Miranda sees many of the men square their shoulders, and even a few lower their gazes to avoid being noticed by him. Her hands tighten on the crate she’s holding. He is one of the men Max warned her against. While he is a pirate lord on the island, he’s not a civil man by any means. And he had been particularly aggressive with Thomas at their first meeting. What does this man want? </p>
<p>“If you can’t count how much you’re earned, then you’re going to be slighted,” Vane says, “and you’ll be too dumb to notice.” </p>
<p>The man scowls at being scolded. </p>
<p>“You got a problem?” Vane asks, and steps closer to him, “want to argue about how you should be allowed to be as stupid as you want?” </p>
<p>It’s a tense moment, but the man submits and steps away from Vane. </p>
<p>Vane turns, and puts his eyes on Thomas. Miranda’s pulse quickens. Max had been able to intervene the last time the pirate was here. But now has the pirate come to do harm when no one will stop him?</p>
<p><em>I will stop him</em>, Miranda decides. Thomas is taller than Vane, but Vane has had a lifetime of hard work. He is accustomed to the efforts it takes to break and kill men. His shirt has a low collar, and with his hair pulled back it puts the marks around his neck on display. This is a man who was hanged for his crimes, and survived. </p>
<p>Miranda wordlessly vows to defend Thomas, but even then she knows she would not win in any sort of battle with this man. </p>
<p>“It makes my job a lot easier if the men are stupid, Professor,” Vane says, and it comes out as a clear threat, “they don’t know to ask for more. They don’t know that they <em>could</em> ask for more. They don’t know anything beyond what I tell them.”</p>
<p>“I suppose that is the point of education,” Thomas says, “to make men equals.” </p>
<p>Miranda wishes her husband had some sense. She’s going to yell at him to stop trying to be so smart, once they’re away from here. </p>
<p>Vane prowls closer to Thomas. Thomas doesn’t move. Miranda can’t take her eyes off of them. Vane has a sword on his hip, a pistol in his belt. Thomas has nothing but the shirt on his back and his soft, ink-stained hands. </p>
<p>Vane goes for something in his coat, and Miranda’s stomach drops. She looks at the crate she’s holding. She has no weapons, nothing, how can she protect Thomas--</p>
<p>“Your book is boring as shit,” Vane says, and hands the book back to Thomas. </p>
<p>“So, you read it?” Thomas asks. He is genuinely excited, rather than afraid. </p>
<p>“No,” Vane scoffs, “I looked at the first page, and skipped to the end. I figure those are the only parts that matter, anyways.”</p>
<p>Thomas laughs, “That seems to ring true of your philosophy on life,” and when Vane scowls at him, Thomas elaborates, “that where you start, and what you make of yourself in the end, are what matter. The middle is unnecessary.” </p>
<p>Vane considers this a moment, and then huffs a laugh. </p>
<p>“I’d be interested to hear your thoughts then, on what you took from it, by only reading parts?” Thomas says, “perhaps you could stay and discuss?” </p>
<p>Now Vane actually laughs, “I don’t need to learn shit. I’m smarter than all the men here,” and Vane looks over his shoulder to hold the gathered men in his gaze, “and look at the difference between us.”</p>
<p>Vane steps back and away from Thomas, and Miranda allows herself to breathe again.  </p>
<p>“I can recommend other authors, if this one wasn’t to your liking,” Thomas says. </p>
<p>Vane looks at Thomas like Thomas is crazy. Miranda feels similar. </p>
<p>“See you ‘round, Professor,” Vane says, and walks away. </p>
<p>A tense silence hangs in the tent. Thomas watches Vane leave with a curious look. Miranda is unsure if she wants to move her husband somewhere private to yell at him, or to expose his foolishness in front of everyone. </p>
<p>And then, to her shock, the men lift their eyes and look to Thomas. </p>
<p>“So, uh, Professor. I want to know how to count my share,” the man Vane had first insulted says. </p>
<p>One by one the other men voice agreement. </p>
<p>Thomas’s smile grows. </p>
<p>Miranda watches the lessons in a stupor. The change is incredible. For the last week Thomas has spent most of his time convincing people <em>why</em> they should learn, rather than actually teaching. Now the men listen to him with their full attention. </p>
<p>Had they just received an endorsement? Was that Vane’s true purpose? To support them?</p>
<p>But why? Max herself had informed Miranda that Vane would likely voice opposition to them opening a school. That he was intelligent, yes, but a brute through and through. Why would he come here? </p>
<p>It occurs to Miranda, finally. He wouldn’t have come of his own accord. He must have been sent, by someone who wanted to keep their distance but help the school. </p>
<p>It must have been James. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s hot enough that Miranda fears walking out from the shade of the tent. The sun is high and most of the men attending Thomas’ lesson this morning have other duties to attend to. Thomas beams with energy, simply elated with the response he got today. </p>
<p>“I think that went well,” he says to her as they pack up. </p>
<p>Miranda nods agreement. She’s been keeping a watch on the movement on the beach, but has yet to see James. She wonders if he will be present, or if he is attending matters elsewhere. </p>
<p>“I could have done without the Captain threatening you,” Miranda says.</p>
<p>Thomas pauses, “Captain Vane? I thought he was very helpful.” </p>
<p>“I thought he was going to kill you,” Miranda says, blunt like a hammer, “you need to be more careful with men like that.” </p>
<p>“All of the men here are like him,” Thomas points out, “he’s a pirate. He is probably one of the worse men here, and if I can have his favour, then I think I should take it. It’s what we came here to do!”</p>
<p>“If you have his attention that is <em>not</em> a good thing,” Miranda points out. </p>
<p>“I have his eye in any case,” Thomas says with a shrug, “I know what he is, love. But so far as he is civil, so am I. Besides, he’s quite fascinating, is he not? I wonder what his story is?”</p>
<p>Miranda pauses. Fascinating? She’s familiar with Thomas’ moods and when he takes interest in someone. Finding someone intriguing, or fascinating, is often a precursor to wooing them. Which can lead to seducing them. </p>
<p>“Fascinating?” she repeats, and she’s not sure why she feels angry. Is she hurt? Is she offended? On whose behalf? That her husband has no sense of self preservation? That Thomas can reject James for his choices, and then take a fancy to another man just like James? </p>
<p>She watches her husband carefully, “like James was fascinating?” </p>
<p>Thomas reads the underlying message in her tone. He looks shocked, “No, no, of course not! Do you think that of me?”</p>
<p>“No,” Miranda says quickly, “I’m just… stunned. By what you see in people.”</p>
<p>“Do you believe everyone here beyond redemption, then?” Thomas inquires. </p>
<p>It terrifies Miranda when her husband turns his mind to her in this way. The fear is accompanied by a healthy sense of adrenaline. Thomas loves debating the morality of life, of human nature, and the choices that create people. It makes him horrible at small talk, and is one of the reasons he was so difficult to converse with at dinner parties. Sometimes he did it on purpose, to drive away people he found boring, and sometimes he does it to her to remind her why she loves him. Miranda isn’t sure if that’s the precise reason he asks these kinds of questions, but the result is the same. Like the first time they met when he asked her <em>why</em> she was alive, and the introspection made her realize she <em>wasn’t</em>; she feels the same heat in her veins at the idea that someone can speak to her very soul. </p>
<p>He’s asking this of her: does she condemn every man here based on the choices he has made? Because of circumstances he may not have been able to control? Must she condemn men for surviving, as she has survived, simply because they did not have the chances she received?</p>
<p>She also wonders if he’s thinking of James. Miranda wonders when their conversations will stop being about James. </p>
<p>In ten years they were nearly able to stop talking about him, but he was always present anyways. Does Thomas’ desire to think every man redeemable also extend to the man who killed his father and their friend? Can that kind of redemption happen for their lover, who has twisted himself into a monster?</p>
<p>“No,” Miranda says, “I don’t think that. But I do think you should be cautious. Just because you want to save them, doesn’t mean they will be kind to you.” </p>
<p>“I know,” Thomas agrees, and Miranda almost regrets thinking her husband a fool. When she can see that his kindness and optimism is a conscious choice, a stubborn refusal to believe the world is an awful place. </p>
<p>“I wanted to have a word with Max,” Thomas says, “she asked if I would consider teaching her girls as well.” </p>
<p>“You’re going to teach in a brothel?” Miranda asks him. </p>
<p>Thomas’ ears go red, “Well, well yes. If the working men are getting an education, then we think it is only fair the women do too.” </p>
<p>“Do not believe a word any of those girls say to you,” Miranda warns him, “and remember you are a married man.” </p>
<p>Thomas grins, and his eyes light up in delight, “How could I ever forget? Will you come along?” </p>
<p>Miranda shakes her head, “I want to inquire about purchasing some things for my garden. I will join you when you are done.”</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Miranda leaves Thomas at the tavern for his meeting. She intends to go to the market, yes, but she finds herself going back to the beach. There are a number of ships in the bay. She can make out enough details to make them recognizable, but she doesn’t know any of them by sight yet. One of these is James’ ship. She believes it is called <em>The Walrus</em>. She’ll have to commit the ship to memory once she knows which one it is. </p>
<p>She finds James busy amongst his crew. They have a pig roasting on a spit, and all seem to be in good spirits. Work must have paused just recently, as many of the men are still lined up for a cut of the meat. James is speaking with another man, turned away from her, and so he doesn’t see her approach. </p>
<p>It’s still strange to see his head shaved. She misses his long hair, though, the look is fitting for a fearsome pirate. His skin is weathered in places, from years working on the sea, and his hands are rough from hard work and fighting. James always had a strong body, one that both Miranda and Thomas delighted in. Ten years haven’t changed that, though from the cut of his trousers to what she can make of his arms through the loose material of his shirt, Miranda finds that he is leaner now. But she believes years working those muscles has made him fitter than he has ever been. </p>
<p>The man James is speaking with falls silent as she approaches. It’s the only warning James gets, and he turns around in confusion. For a moment Miranda feels his glare, upset at being interrupted, and then his look grows cold. She’s never seen his bright eyes on her like this. It’s upsetting, to know he is trying to <em>not</em> know her. </p>
<p>He stares at her, and does not speak. She’s aware that most of the crew is staring at her. Miranda supposes it’s not often a woman walks into the middle of their camp. </p>
<p>“May I have a word?” she asks. </p>
<p>James doesn’t budge. Just last night he’d informed them that whatever their relationship in the past, he intended to leave it there. He must think she’s come to win him back. </p>
<p>He’s not wrong. But she knows him too well. Or, at least, she used to. And if they are still kindred spirits like they were when they were in love, then Miranda knows all of the steps to play to bring him around. </p>
<p>“It won’t take long,” Miranda says, and then because she can, she adds, “and it’s quite hot out. May we have some shade?” </p>
<p>James grunts a noise of agreement, and gestures to a canopy pitched nearby. There is a table under it, though no chairs to sit in. </p>
<p>“After you,” James says. </p>
<p>Miranda can feel the crew watching as she and James step aside. It’s not at all private, as everyone can watch them, but it’s as close to private as she thinks she will be allowed with James. The sanctuary from the direct sun is a relief. </p>
<p>“What do you want?” James asks. He looks down at the papers-- maps, lists, schedules-- on the table rather than at her. He’s put the table between them, so his back is to the ocean. It’s defensive, Miranda notes. He considers her a threat. Good. </p>
<p>He makes for quite a sight. A fearsome Pirate Lord, a revolutionary, and champion of freedom. Miranda finds it hard to believe all of these extraordinary titles apply to her James. </p>
<p>“Thank you for the horse,” Miranda says, “we’ve named her Bella. She’s been very useful.” </p>
<p>James nods acknowledgement, but keeps his eyes averted, “Good.” </p>
<p>“I think we’re going to get chickens, and possibly a goat,” Miranda shares, “I’ve never been a farmer before, but it should be interesting. My garden should start producing soon, at least, the things that were planted before we moved in should be growing. I’m excited to know what they will turn out to be. Otherwise I’ll have to continue buying vegetables and I can’t say I enjoy the selection that is offered here.” </p>
<p>James looks over his shoulder, back at where his crew is milling about. Most of them are trying to sneak glances at their Captain and his guest. Very few of them are good at being subtle. </p>
<p>“A shopping list?” James asks, “that’s what you want to talk about?”</p>
<p>“What else would we talk about?” Miranda challenges him. </p>
<p>James studies her with a wary eye, but doesn’t rise to her bait. He always infuriated her with how he could do that: open up a topic, and then avoid it completely. </p>
<p>“Livestock is more expensive here, especially because you’re not a local,” James says, and crosses his arms across his chest, “don’t start a feud, but don’t accept the first offer you’re given.” </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Miranda says. There are so many things she wants to say. So many things she wishes she could say. None of them are formed enough to be coherent thoughts, other than <em>I want I want I want</em>. </p>
<p>“Is there anything else?” James asks. He still won’t look at her. </p>
<p>“Which ship is yours?” Miranda asks. She feels a bit like a cat with a mouse, and she likes it. She wonders how hard she would have to push to make him crack.</p>
<p>James steps back, and points at a ship mid-harbour. Miranda comes around the table to stand beside him. She’s closer than should be polite. James doesn’t give her the satisfaction of flinching away. For all that he’s her mouse, she knows he won’t let her have the upper hand on him. </p>
<p>“That’s her,” he says, and Miranda can hear the pride in his voice, “<em>the Walrus</em>.” </p>
<p>“I’ll keep an eye out for you,” Miranda offers, “and it’ll be good to know when you’re home.” </p>
<p>She sees the tension come into James’ shoulders, the downturn at the edge of his mouth grows sour. </p>
<p>“Don’t waste your time on me,” he growls, “I told you. I’ve let the past go.” </p>
<p>Only now because they are standing close enough to feel like they are in their own world, Miranda leans in and whispers, “I don’t think that’s true at all.”</p>
<p>“Whatever game you’re playing,” James warns, “it’s not going to work.”</p>
<p>He turns to face her, and they’re nearly face to face now. How easy would it be to reach forwards and kiss him? </p>
<p>“No games,” she says, lying through her teeth as she smiles at him. She takes in his handsome face, the sunburn, the tan, the freckles, his mustache, his brilliant eyes. His shoulders are broad and sturdy. She thought she remembered James perfectly, and after all this time it feels like she’s seeing him for the first time all over again. </p>
<p>James rocks back on his heels, away from her. </p>
<p>“I don’t believe you,” he says.</p>
<p>Miranda maintains her smile. James still knows her so well. </p>
<p>She waits too long to speak, lost in taking him in again. James pulls away.</p>
<p>“People are going to talk,” he mumbles, “you should leave.” </p>
<p>“I’m happily married,” she teases him, “rumors do not bother me.”</p>
<p>James glances at her from the corner of his eye, and he huffs a soft laugh, “I know.” </p>
<p>“I did have a reason for coming,” Miranda says, and James seems to remember himself, and the declaration he made last night. He grows cold again. It would be so easy to reach out and touch him, to feel the heat of his skin under her hands. Miranda wills herself to resist. </p>
<p>“Your endorsement today,” Miranda says, “I wanted to say thank you.” </p>
<p>James frowns, brow furrowing as he thinks. He has a handsome profile, Miranda thinks, even with his new facial hair, “I haven’t done anything yet. I’ve been too busy to afford my crew taking the time off--” </p>
<p>“Don’t play stupid,” Miranda cuts him off, “I know you sent Vane. Though, I question the choice. I thought he was there to fight, at first.”</p>
<p>Now James does laugh, baring teeth, “I didn’t send Vane--” and his head comes up to look at her. His aloof coldness falls away, and Miranda sees real fear in his face, “Vane was there? Why?”</p>
<p>“To see Thomas,” Miranda says slowly, and she goes back over the Captain’s terrifying few minutes at the school, “he… I thought you had sent him. He publicly endorsed the school. In front of a crowd, no less.” </p>
<p>“That is <em>not</em> what he came for,” James insists, “Vane would never support it.”</p>
<p>“He seems interested in Thomas,” Miranda says, and she’s not sure what possesses her to add, “and Thomas finds him fascinating.” </p>
<p>James goes still at that. He stands up straight, looking at her intently. The weight of his gaze makes it hard to breathe. Miranda has come to learn that about him, now. He’s intense. James always had a quiet power about him that could be unnerving when he was angry, but he’s honed that into making himself a presence to be known. It’s not hard to see why people would believe any story or myth they hear about Captain Flint, when he fills a space with his gaze alone. </p>
<p>How strange that Miranda feels no fear under James’ scrutiny. The man who exists in the darkness of good people's nightmares, who frightens whole towns into hiding from the dark, and she knows she has nothing to fear from him. It’s a heady, almost arousing, feeling. </p>
<p>“Thomas should remember where he is,” James growls, “and that having Vane’s interest is dangerous.” </p>
<p>“I’ve tried to tell him,” Miranda says, “perhaps he should hear it from you.”</p>
<p>James scowls at that, “He is <em>your</em> husband,” James says, “it’s your job to talk sense into him.”</p>
<p>It used to be <em>their</em> job, secretly appointed by the two of them, to know when to talk Thomas down. Thomas’ beauty is that he dreams so big and wonderfully. At times it’s too much, and that is when James and Miranda would steer him away.</p>
<p>“You know as well as I do that there is only so much sense he will hear,” Miranda says, “so perhaps, if you care for him at all, you should make a point to tell him not to associate with dangerous people.”</p>
<p>“Everyone here is dangerous,” James snaps, and gestures around them, “every single man on my crew has killed someone. When we talk of Charles Vane, we talk about a man who deposed a Captain by cutting his head off! Vane was Blackbeard’s protege!” </p>
<p>Miranda’s stomach churns at the thought. She thinks of how close Vane had been to Thomas, and how she had vowed to fight him. How much strength does it take to decapitate someone? More than strength, how much cruelty does it take in a person to be able to do something so horrendous? </p>
<p>Part of Miranda wonders if she has that kind of evil in her. Sometimes she wants to think she does. That she could do what is necessary. </p>
<p>“I don’t think I’ve had the honor of meeting Blackbeard,” Miranda says. James is trying to scare her, but he should know she does not scare easily. </p>
<p>James scowls at her, but his facade breaks into a laugh at her fake politeness, “Avoid Teach, if you can. I helped run him off the island years ago. He’s welcome back, now, but he’s not fond of me.”</p>
<p>It almost makes Miranda want to laugh at the thought of it. Her James, her lover, is a man who ran <em>the</em> Blackbeard out of town. To think that he’s so powerful, and feared, is upsetting and tantalizing all at the same time. </p>
<p>“Vane has his eye on Thomas?” James asks, “you’re sure of it?”</p>
<p>“Thomas lent him a book,” Miranda says, “Vane stopped by to say he hadn’t read it. I can’t say if he will come back again, but Thomas is not the man to turn anyone away.” </p>
<p>James nods, and looks down at the table again. The connection is broken. He’s withdrawing. </p>
<p>“I’ll look into it,” he says. </p>
<p>Miranda cannot think of anything else to hold him, other than everything swirling around in her mind like a swarm of startled birds. None of which she can voice out loud.  She longs to ask him to elaborate on what he’d said last night, but this is not the place nor the time for that conversation. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Miranda says, and she means it. She and Thomas knew they would be dealing with dangerous people, in coming to Nassau. That they were leaving behind a life of relative safety. It is a balm to her nerves to have someone she trusts looking after them. </p>
<p>“If that’s all…” James trails off, and he steps back from her. </p>
<p>“I was going to go shopping,” Miranda reminds him, “though I fear Thomas’ meeting is done and I must meet with him for afternoon lessons. What might happen if I told you how many chickens I want?” </p>
<p>James gives her a wary look. She wonders if he will try to warn her off again, or if he has already accepted that she will not be turned away so easily. If direct flirtations put him on edge, then allowing him to dote on them from a distance may lure him into a false sense of security where she may spring her trap. </p>
<p>“I want three, to start,” Miranda says, “and a rooster, if it’s not too much trouble.”</p>
<p>She’s a bit too arrogant in her advances, and she knows it. </p>
<p>“Good day, Mrs. McGraw,” James dismisses her. He isn’t able to turn away before she can see the start of a smile on his face. </p>
<p>“It’s good to see you,” Miranda throws out, at James’ back. He pauses, and she waits to hear if he might say any more, but he stays silent and walks back to his crew. </p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Thomas leaves Max’s office feeling hopeful. Nassau is wild and completely foreign to him, and he cannot speak her language yet, he feels like he is growing closer to becoming familiar with the lifestyle of it. The tavern itself is loud, Thomas has come to find it’s loud at almost all hours, and there are men drinking and eating here as they seek respite from the tropical sun.</p>
<p>One man in particular stops him. A dark-haired man is waiting for him just outside of the office. </p>
<p>“Ah, Professor,” John Silver greets, “may I have a word?” </p>
<p>Thomas knows John from the first encounter he had with Flint, where he discovered that Flint was his long-lost James. Silver, as Thomas had come to learn, is James’ quartermaster, and, according to gossip, James’ closest friend. </p>
<p>Silver was friendly enough in their meeting, but Thomas is wary of anyone who could be friends with <em>Flint</em>. </p>
<p>“Of course,” Thomas says, “what can I do for you?”</p>
<p>Silver nods his head and leads Thomas to a corner of the tavern. There’s nowhere to be truly alone, but it’s relatively private. Strange to be approached by a man connected to James, especially right after James informed them he was done with them. </p>
<p>“How is the school going?” Silver asks. </p>
<p>“Quite well,” Thomas answers, “are you interested in attending?” </p>
<p>Silver barks a laugh, and it’s cheerful and infectious. Thomas finds himself smiling along. Silver shakes his head, “Oh, no, I’m too smart for a beginners school. Plus, I’m a terrible student. You’d hate me.”</p>
<p>“The door is always open,” Thomas gives him. Anyone who thinks they are a terrible student, in Thomas’ opinion, are the best kind of people to talk to. They ask questions, and think beyond what they are told to believe. </p>
<p>Silver regards him with a curious look. Thomas is used to people scrutinizing him, often trying to determine if they think he’s insane or perhaps even smart. He takes it as a point of pride when he confounds people. Miranda tells him it makes him rude. </p>
<p>“When he talked about you, I just… I don’t know what I imagined. I think I thought of you as more like myself,” Silver says. </p>
<p>Now it’s Thomas’ turn to be confused. </p>
<p>“You-- who talked about me?” But even as he speaks, he knows there’s only one man who would have talked about him. </p>
<p>“James?” Thomas realizes, “James talked about me-- before this?” </p>
<p>“Unless there was another Thomas Hamilton who broke Flint’s heart when he and his wife died,” Silver says. He says it so casually, with no regard for the way Thomas’ heart turns to lead at what it means for Silver to know his family name. </p>
<p>Silver looks up at Thomas and his friendly cheer is gone, “Oh yes. I know exactly who you are, and who you were to Flint.”</p>
<p>James told him of their affair? This man? Does James trust him <em>that</em> much? </p>
<p>“What do you want?” Thomas asks. This isn't a social talk; he’s come to realize. </p>
<p>“To talk about the man we have in common,” Silver says, and he’s back to smiling. It even reaches his eyes. The contrast is unnerving. </p>
<p>“What about him?” Thomas asks. </p>
<p>“I want you to imagine something with me: there’s a tale sailors like to tell. You toss a rock into the ocean here, and across the world that makes a wave for another ship to sail on. It could even be a child, who splashed in the water, who causes the wave that breaks your ship, and you have no control over that. And so, when we set sail or chart a course, what we are doing is moving on the actions of other men, men we will likely never meet. It’s a humbling sort of story, how we all have this effect on each other’s lives, you see?” </p>
<p>Thomas wonders where this story is going. He nods to show he’s listening. </p>
<p>“Your death was a drop in the ocean,” Silver says, “but it was the drop that gave Flint a wave to ride. And that wave picked up momentum, and brought more and more people on. It became a massive thing that changed the world and overthrew England to create this free island. Your death did all of that, for us. But it’s not done yet. There is work to do before we can let that wave go, and if we abandon it too soon, all of this will be for nothing.” </p>
<p>“I’m not here to stop you,” Thomas assures Silver, “I’ve been quite vocal about support of Nassau as a free nation.” </p>
<p>“Flint pulled us along in the wake of your death,” Silver says, “and now that you are alive, it changes a lot of things. It makes things very difficult, especially for him.” </p>
<p>Thomas hears Miranda’s words in his mind. He should be more mindful of the men here. That was probably a threat. He takes a small step back. </p>
<p>“I’m not here to kill you,” Silver says with a lazy wave of his hand, “but I am here to talk sense into you.”</p>
<p>“So far I am hearing only threats, sir,” Thomas says warily. </p>
<p>“Good,” Silver says, “now, as I was saying, Flint drew power from your death. It’s what fueled him, what pushed him to see a future no one else could see. It’s what has made him a legend. And your not being dead? That’s a problem.”</p>
<p>“I should hope it was a relief,” Thomas interrupts. </p>
<p>“It’s not,” Silver snaps, and he sounds angry, “how do you suspect a man talks other men into going to war, into fighting and dying, when he knows it was all based on a lie? That his grief and his rage, what kept him going all this time, were false emotions? What do you think that does to a man? I’ll tell you: it breaks him. Ever since you came back to life, Flint has been lost. I am the only thing holding him together. Because if we lose him? We lose everything: the war? Our freedom? <em>Everything</em>.” </p>
<p>The final words come out as a snarl. As if Thomas himself is personally responsible for the demise of Nassau. </p>
<p>“And why tell me this?” Thomas asks, and he glances around again. He can’t spot Miranda. At this point she must be coming back to meet him, “where’s my wife?” </p>
<p>“She’s fine,” Silver says, “like I said, I’m not here to kill you. I don’t like violence.”</p>
<p>“You’re a difficult man to read,” Thomas says warily. </p>
<p>Silver preens at the insult, like it’s praise. </p>
<p>“Now, Lord Hamilton,” Silver says, “I’ve come here to explain to you that you lurking on the edges of Flint’s mind is bad for us all. And if you are dedicated to this place, and all of our future here like you say you are, you need to leave Flint in the past. He’s not the man you knew, and he’ll never be that man again. You trying to resurrect that man is only going to cause him agony.” </p>
<p>Thomas takes in the information. If only this John Silver knew that James had been to see them last night, to declare that there was no love between them anymore. Would he be talking to Thomas like this?</p>
<p>Although, the timing is odd. Thomas doesn’t think he has done much to pursue and chase James’ affections. In fact, it has almost felt like the opposite. James is the one who keeps coming back to them, or finding excuses to. </p>
<p>It almost sounds as if Silver is trying to warn Thomas away, because he knows he cannot keep Flint away from them. </p>
<p>It sounds an awful lot like jealousy. </p>
<p>“Are you in love with him?” Thomas asks, “is that why you are so scared of me?” </p>
<p>For the first time since meeting him, Thomas sees Silver stunned to silence. </p>
<p>Silver looks at him again, and this time Thomas knows he is being re-evaluated. Silver must have decided he was mad earlier, and is now coming to realize that Thomas is quite smart. It’s a common mistake. Thomas is used to being the smartest man in the room. </p>
<p>Silver laughs, baring his teeth, "If I was then this is where we both realize we must fight for him, and one of us will have to lose. Because you love the man he was, and I would love the man that he is. But if I was in love, and unaware, now you've just made me aware of the feelings I might have, and we are back to fighting for someone we both love. So perhaps it's better that I say I don't love him, and we continue on as friends rather than adversaries."</p>
<p>Just as Silver underestimated Thomas, perhaps Thomas has underestimated him. </p>
<p>He should have known that James wouldn’t be satisfied with company from a fool. James always sought out intelligent minds, and had no patience for idiots. </p>
<p>Odd, too, that Silver should come in there, threatening Thomas, and then claim that they could be friendly. </p>
<p>For the first time in his life, Thomas wonders if he is still the smartest man in the room. </p>
<p>“Well, of course, Flint as the man he is, is entirely incapable of love,” Silver admits, “surely you’ve noticed this.” </p>
<p>Thomas thinks back to seeing James smile in his kitchen, at Miranda’s laughter. He tries to match it to what he knows of Flint, of the man who killed his father. They seem incompatible. </p>
<p>“People can be complicated,” Thomas says. </p>
<p>“Yes, but complication brings misery. If you care for him, you must let him go,” Silver insists, “do you understand?” </p>
<p>Silver wants Thomas and Miranda to reject James, to seal this agreement James has offered them. That the three of them will let the past die, will bury their love in their memories, and become strangers to one another. That is what Silver is asking of him. </p>
<p>The idea that someone outside of Miranda or James thinks he can demand this of Thomas makes Thomas’ blood boil. </p>
<p>“I think you care for James,” Thomas says carefully, “but if you truly cared for him you would save him from the monster he’s become. You would encourage people to love him.” </p>
<p>Silver laughs again, “Monster? You think killing makes him monstrous? Killing is what made him a hero. I’ve killed for him, to protect him. To aid him. Can you say the same?” </p>
<p>“No,” Thomas shakes his head, “and I hope I never have to.” </p>
<p>Silver nods, seemingly understanding, “If there is to be any future in Nassau, for any of us, you must let him go. And you must do it soon,” he steps away from Thomas, finished with the conversation, and stops to look back, “oh, and if it wasn’t clear, <em>that</em> was a threat. Have a good day, Professor.” </p>
<p>Thomas watches John Silver leave. Other men move out of his way, with just as many friendly smiles as there are frightened expressions. John Silver is a very curious man. Thomas isn’t so sure he’s met anyone quite like him. </p>
<p>It’s become easier to understand why James would bond with him. </p>
<p>But John Silver may not be as intelligent as he thinks he is. For all that James may have told him of Thomas and Miranda, of their relationship with James, Silver does not seem to understand what it is like to love someone as James was loved. </p>
<p>Thomas has always had a bad habit, of when he was told not to do something, or especially if someone thought he could not do something, that he dedicated himself to doing it. Just to prove everyone wrong. He feels like Silver has just given him a very clear ‘do not do this’. </p>
<p>And oh, isn’t that funny? Just this morning Thomas was still conflicted about James. About what he wanted from James. It took James’ rejection, and hearing from Silver just how much James truly is affected by them, for Thomas to know he does love James. He wants to love James. He wants James to love him. </p>
<p>Thomas leaves the tavern in a bit of a daze. If Silver thinks his words are enough to deter Thomas once Thomas has decided on a goal, then he will have a surprise on his hands when he discovers just how stubborn Thomas can be.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>gosh silver, you're just... TOO good at manipulating people sometimes. but even he should have known that telling someone to NOT do something is the easiest way to make someone do the thing, unless, maybe... that's what silver wants..........</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Chapter 6</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for all the support! I love writing this story with y'all in mind &lt;33</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Silver is disappointed in him. Flint is disappointed that Silver doesn’t trust his word. </p><p>“I leave for an hour, and I come back to hear you snuck off with the Professor’s wife?” Silver asks. </p><p>“We didn’t sneak off,” Flint rebuffs him. If he finds the idiot who spread that rumor he might shoot them, “we had a conversation. Like civilized people. Can’t I do that?” </p><p>“The agreement was to <em>stop</em> any contact with them,” Silver insists, and he pauses a moment to compose himself. He’s a surprisingly emotional man, though, Flint finds that half of it is a performance, some of it is calculated, and only a small amount of it is true. </p><p>“I know who they are, and who they are to you,” Silver says softly, “I know how tempting it must be to continue any sort of contact with them. But we both know that path only brings pain, and I don’t want to see you suffer any more than you already have.”</p><p>“I know what I’m doing,” Flint says, and turns away from Silver. </p><p>“Do you?” Silver insists, “being friendly with them only draws out the inevitable.”</p><p>“She came to me!” Flint snaps, turning on his heel to face Silver, “she came to me to— to antagonize me, I suppose. She knows the power she has over me.” </p><p>“A heart is a terrible thing,” Silver agrees, “for the power it gives others over you. You must resist them, at all cost.” </p><p>“Thomas…” Flint bites back the words. He’s sharing too much. </p><p>Silver moves closer, to stand shoulder to shoulder with him. In the dying light of the day this allows them absolute privacy to speak. Flint listens to the soft waves on the shore. </p><p>“You were right,” Flint whispers, “Thomas cannot forgive me. Miranda came to gloat, and to tell me Thomas can find someone like Vane worthy of his interest, but not me.” </p><p>“Vane?” Silver almost laughs, “he’s liable to get himself killed if he gets too close to Vane.” </p><p>“I warned Miranda of that,” Flint notes, and he has to clear his throat before he can say, “I suspect it’s all a show, to let me know what they truly think of me.” </p><p>“It’s for the better,” Silver says gently, “if they are rebuking you. I know you are in pain. I will be here with you. And I will help guide you through it.” </p><p>“I missed them,” Flint confesses, and he scrubs a hand over his face, “I missed them every day. I never— there was nothing I could do to free them from my thoughts. Even after they died, when I dreamed, I— it was the three of us. Old, fat, and happy. That’s all I wanted. That was my peace. And I could have had it.” </p><p>Flint curls his hands into fists, “I could have had it. I could have had that happiness, except for the one truth I’ve refused to admit my whole life.”</p><p>Silver studies him carefully, his thoughts at work to follow Flint’s own. Flint needs to say the words out loud. He has to give power to these words, to align the world to fit the truth he creates. Maybe it will quell the storm in him, the one that rages at being caged away so he can focus on the war. The war is what truly matters. There have been so many casualties, his heart is the least he can sacrifice for the cause. </p><p>“What truth?” Silver asks. It gives Flint the stage to speak them on. When they are of the same mind, the world bends to suit them. It will hear his words, and it will obey. </p><p>“I am a monster,” Flint growls, “I have <em>always </em>been a monster. There is no love or happy end for me. Not in this life.”</p><p>He feels it under his skin. In the dark he is a vile, ugly thing hungry for blood. </p><p>Silver steps up beside him, witness to his truth. </p><p>“This is a time for monstrous things,” Silver agrees, “and I will be here with you, my friend.”</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Miranda wakes in the morning unusually excited for the day. </p><p>Thomas snores beside her, deep in sleep. While Thomas often wakes at odd hours in the night, Miranda has long grown used to this and doesn’t rise with him. His odd sleeping pattern means he sleeps in later than she does, and Miranda appreciates the quiet mornings to herself. </p><p>Miranda takes a shawl and goes to stand outside. There is a sort of ritual, she finds, in welcoming the dawn. Part of her is curious if she will find James in the chair out front, acting like a dog guarding their door. Another part of her wonders if she will find any of the gifts she requested from James. </p><p>She feels a little silly to be disappointed when the yard is empty. While there is a mild chill in the air, Miranda can feel that it will be another hot day. She’s going to have to invest in some hats or parasols if she wants to avoid the sun in this place. Even hiding under Thomas’ tent all day hasn’t helped, though she finds the coloring from the sun gives a sense of vitality to everyone here that she never saw in the people back home. </p><p>The ground is cool as Miranda steps off the porch. It’s a small thrill, of all the things Miranda does in her days since moving to Nassau, that she walks barefoot simply because she can. </p><p>Bella snorts and leans out of her stall as Miranda approaches. Miranda has never been fond of useless pets, or animals in general, but she finds herself quite fond of the horse after only a few days. She strokes the mare's soft nose. </p><p>“Maybe I like you because James found you for us,” Miranda confesses. Bella sniffs her for treats. </p><p>By the time Miranda is done feeding the horse, the sun has risen above the horizon and the day has begun. She’s already thinking ahead to seeing James again. He’s wary of her, he wants to be a man of his word, even when his decision to abandon them is foolish. Miranda wore his defenses down once before; she can do that again. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Miranda takes her time lingering on the porch. It’s strong, and the wood is sturdy under her feet. Another gift from James. If he wanted to cut ties with them, he would have done so. These gifts, these little ways of showing affection, are James’ way of asking for them to come after him. When James is convinced of something, it is nearly impossible to change his mind. </p><p>Miranda is startled to hear a man’s voice. She pulls her shawl tighter to cover herself, and turns to see a man coming up to the house. </p><p>He’s vaguely familiar, and it takes her a moment to recognize him. Pastor Lambrick, from the local church. He had gone out of his way to introduce himself after Thomas and Miranda had moved into the home. While he is polite enough, Miranda has never had a high opinion of religious men. The contradictions and endless shame are exhausting on her nerves. </p><p>“Sir,” Miranda says, and wonders if she should be embarrassed or angry at him for walking in on her in such a state, and wonders what response she wants to draw from him, “it is rather early for a house call.”</p><p>“I’m sorry. You and your husband are often gone too soon for me to catch you,” Lambrick admits, and he seems genuinely sorry, and also nervous. Miranda takes pity on him.</p><p>“What is the cause for concern?” she asks. </p><p>He glances behind her, at the house, and says in a quieter voice as he comes up to the porch, “It is about your safety. I fear you are in grave danger.”</p><p><em>Where is James?</em> Is Miranda’s first thought. Something must have happened to him. </p><p>“I— I apologize for how intrusive this is, but I could not bear to be silent any longer. May we speak?” Lambrick asks. </p><p>“On what? What danger do you speak of?” Miranda demands. </p><p>Lambrick swallows audibly, “The Pirate Captain. Flint. I know he has his eye on you. I’m here to help free you from him.”</p><p>Miranda laughs out loud. She covers her mouth, surprised by her outburst. She coughs to disguise the sound. </p><p>“Captain Flint?” she repeats. </p><p>For months all she and Thomas talked about was Nassau. It was the topic on their minds at all hours. Truly it was the pirates of Nassau they were speaking of, and over time, the two became synonymous. Miranda supposes that after all this time, she still feels the same way. It’s jarring to be reminded that there is more to Nassau than just the pirates, and in fact, the pirates are a small part of the island. They just make the biggest noise. </p><p>“Yes, ma’am,” Lambrick says, “I— I think this is best spoken of with your husband present.” </p><p>“I appreciate your concern,” Miranda says, “but my husband and I can handle our own business.” </p><p>Thomas will laugh himself silly when Miranda tells him of this. To think that people would fear for their safety with James? </p><p>Miranda’s mind brings back the images of James putting himself between them and Alfred, so aggressive with his words that Alfred had no choice but to leave his own home. She thinks to James’ split knuckles over the months of the affair and his confessions that men had said unkind words about her and Thomas, and James had been unable to resist defending them. </p><p>When Miranda had thought that Flint was the thing that consumed her James, when she had been unsure if she knew him, there had been fear. But she recognizes James, underneath the man he has been forced to become. She has nothing to fear from James. </p><p>“I do not think you understand the danger this man presents to you,” Lambrick insists, “Flint is like a demon. Sent to spit in the face of anything good in this world. Lady McGraw, I do not know how you came to be associated with him, but I beg of you to cut ties with him. You invite evil into this community every time that dark rider comes to your door.”</p><p>There’s a fire in her words that Miranda bites back. She wants to leap to James’ defense. She wants to protect Thomas from people who would control or dictate his life again. She wants to break any chains anyone would try to place on her, like a beast free to rampage. </p><p>She and Thomas want a life here in Nassau. That means not making everyone an enemy. </p><p>“Thank you,” Miranda says, and releases the heat of her anger, “is this fear of a personal nature, of was this brought to you by outside ears?” </p><p>The Pastor hesitates in answering. So, not his own idea to speak to them. That’s not ideal. If the community forms opinions on them too quickly, they could end up ostracized. Miranda and Thomas are used to being outsiders, no matter the circles they run in, but it’s always better to be friends than enemies. </p><p>“The Captain has done nothing but thank us for the work my husband does in educating the men in Nassau Town,” Miranda explains, “that is our involvement with him.” </p><p>“You must know the stories people tell of him,” Lambrick insists. He crosses the threshold he had been hiding behind, and finally steps up onto the porch to join her, “I can assure you, they are all very real. Flint is a butcher and a savage. He may speak like a civilized man, but you cannot mistake that for a civilized soul. He is… an elegant monster. Unique even amongst the pirates he associates with. He is the very one who convinced them to rebel from England’s rule! The reason we are cut off!”</p><p>Miranda knows that Lambrick’s idea of civilization would have James and Thomas hanged for their love. That his idea of civilized would be her sitting in a corner, mute and submissive. She knows he has no idea how to look at himself and see these flaws, and that it is likely he never will. </p><p>“My husband and I have come to help build a better world. I know well of the deeds Captain Flint is accused of, but for the time being, my husband and he have their sights on the same horizon. Thank you for your concern,” Miranda says. </p><p>The Pastor recognizes that he is being dismissed, and that Miranda will not be swayed. </p><p>“The Captain may be a friend now,” he warns, “but not even the wrath of England could stop him. Like a rabid dog, he will bite the hand that feeds him. That is his nature.”</p><p>The imagery is clear. The only thing to do with a rabid animal is to put it down, for everyones’ safety. That is what people think of her James. </p><p>“I will keep that in mind,” Miranda promises him.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Thomas does, in fact, find the situation amusing. Miranda recounts it to him as they ride into Nassau Town. </p><p>“I find it fascinating,” Miranda admits, “the difference between what people think of James and what I know to be true. They are two completely different people.” </p><p>“One man cannot be two people,” Thomas argues, “he can act different, but at his core, he will always be himself.” </p><p>Miranda finds this intriguing, and tugs at the threads Thomas has exposed, “And do you think this of James? That Flint is his true self?”</p><p>Thomas looks surprised, “You do not?” </p><p>“James was prone to outbursts when angry, yes,” Miranda reasons, “but he was not a <em>dangerous </em>man. He was never without reason. He would not have gone out of his way to cause misery, unless he had to.” </p><p>“I don’t think he delights in it,” Thomas says, “I don’t think any man could truly delight in pain and suffering.”</p><p>“But you think James, our James, has always been capable of it?” Miranda asks. </p><p>“I know he is,” Thomas says, “we know what they say when they talk about Flint. We know the things he’s done. I— I feel shocked that you seem to be ignoring this?” </p><p>Miranda’s face feels hot. It must be the sun. </p><p>“I have not forgotten,” she snaps, “but all of that was done from a place of grief. For justice. For us! James would not have done any of this if it weren’t for us, because he cares for us.”</p><p>“I know,” Thomas says, and he looks sick at the idea, “it breaks my heart.” </p><p>That is not the response Miranda was expecting. To her this is… nearly a point of pride. It’s a declaration, that James loves her so deep and terribly that he will do great violence upon the world in revenge for her. It sounds like a story of heroes, to her. Of legendary actions borne from a love that is destined to be. </p><p>Thomas sees this as a tragedy. </p><p>“Oh,” Miranda says. She had nothing else to say that will not lead to her and Thomas arguing. They often differ in opinions on things, and in fact, relish their differences. Verbal sparring is a favored pastime. But this is not a topic to be treated as entertainment. </p><p>“You are going to pursue him?” Thomas asks after their silence has declared this conversation over.</p><p>“Yes,” she says, honest, “I don’t know what that looks like, but I cannot let him go.” </p><p>“He said he doesn’t want us,” Thomas muses, “not in the way we were.” </p><p>“He’s lying,” Miranda says firmly.</p><p>“I agree,” Thomas says. </p><p>Miranda looks hard at her husband. She feels he may be trying to say something, but Thomas has never been one to mince words. Especially with her. They speak freely with one another, no matter how taboo the subject. </p><p>“I would like to not be wrong, for once,” Thomas says with a smile, “so I thought I would agree with you from the onset.” </p><p>Once upon a time, when she was a little girl, Miranda dreamed of meeting a husband and loving him more than life itself. As she grew older she realized that fairy tales were nothing more than fantasies, and the real world was a cruel and unforgiving place. Love was a currency to be spent wisely, and more often than not, it lost value and left people in misery. </p><p>And then she met Thomas, and discovered that she had never known love until he loved her. She thinks, sometimes, that she may still misunderstand love, and she loves him too fiercely, too desperately. Like a drowning man loves a raft. But she loves him, and he loves her, and she will not release him until she dies.</p><p>She is all-consumed by Thomas’ love, and delighted in having brief love affairs with other people. It was a joy to have those emotions, that connection with others. And she always came back to the source, her Thomas. Miranda intended to love James in a dismissive way, as a momentary distraction. He was a spur of the moment, an enticing challenge, but before she knew it, Miranda realized she loved him in much the same way she loved Thomas. That somehow, against the odds, there had been room in her awful heart for someone else. </p><p>Her love for Thomas grows daily, astounding her with how much it’s possible to love someone, and know she will love him more tomorrow. It is the same with James. </p><p>Miranda places her hand over Thomas’, where he holds Bella’s reins.</p><p>“I love you first and forever,” she assures him, “I don’t know what the future holds, but know that is my truth.” </p><p>Thomas brings her hand to his mouth so he can kiss her knuckles. </p><p>There will be a happy life for them here, Miranda is sure of it. She will make it that way. One day in the future, she, Thomas and James will sit down for a meal together, and all will be right in their world. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>“I figured it out!” Jack announces as he throws open the door to Anne’s room. </p><p>“Jack! Fuck off!” Anne shouts from bed. She and Max yank up the sheets to cover themselves. </p><p>“Don’t mind me,” Jack dismisses them with a wave of his hand, heading for the rum he knows Anne keeps in her third drawer, “I’ve seen it all anyways.” </p><p>While his back is turned he hears a <em>thump</em>, and spies Max’s shoe as it lands in his near vicinity. </p><p>“I’m sorry did you not hear me declare I have solved the puzzle?” he demands, and pours out three shots, “we are celebrating!” </p><p>“What fucking puzzle?” Anne snarls. </p><p>“Flint! And the Professor! I figured it out!” Jack says, and dances over to the bed to hand the ladies their rum. The look Max gives him is scathing. Jack winks at her. </p><p>Max scrubs a hand over her face, “I thought you all were done with that nonsense?” </p><p>“Never,” Jack declares, “at least, not until something <em>more</em> interesting comes up.”</p><p>Anne perks up at the mention of Flint. Max steps out of bed to put on a robe to give herself some decency, Anne does no such thing. </p><p>“I thought you had work to do today,” Max chides him. </p><p>“I’m taking a short break,” Jack lies. </p><p>“Well?” Anne prompts, “out with it, then!” </p><p>“I have it on good faith that, the day <em>after </em>meeting the Professor in your office,” Jack points at Max who rolls her eyes at him, “that very morning, Flint was seen riding <em>into</em> town. Because he spent the night elsewhere. And he hired a bunch of carpenters, paid them a lot of money, and sent them to work on the Professor’s house. While working there, he <em>also</em> hired them to take a horse and cart that Flint <em>also</em> bought, out to the Professor.” </p><p>Anne looks perplexed. Max also looks confused by the recounting of Flint’s actions. </p><p>Jack tries to help them, “Why would a man, who we all know has never done anything if it does not further his own agenda, who is so deeply private that we don’t even know if he has a dick or not,” Anne snorts at the reappearance of her joke, “suddenly spend so much money and time on, by the McGraw’s own words, people who are practically strangers to him?” </p><p>“They aren’t strangers,” Max concludes quickly, rolling her eyes, “that much is obvious.” </p><p>“Even if they were friends,” Jack pulls their thoughts along, “does that justify the money spent? The gifts?” </p><p>Anne gasps, always so close in stride with his own mind, “You think he’s fucking the wife?” </p><p>Jack grabs her face to kiss her, “Yes! Brilliant, darling, you’re brilliant! That has to be it! We solved the riddle!”</p><p>“It’s kind of a letdown,” Anne admits.</p><p>Jack sighs, and sits down on the bed, “Unfortunately, it appears that even men as grand and infuriating as Flint are prone to the same basic flaws and desires as the rest of us.”</p><p>“But why the gifts?” Max wonders. </p><p>Jack and Anne turn to look at her in complete sync. </p><p>“What do you mean?” Jack asks, “I thought it was common practice to give gifts. How else are you going to get caught?” </p><p>“You don’t give gifts for an affair,” Max thinks out loud, “especially for someone as secretive as Flint. If Flint is doing all of these things, then the husband is aware of the gifts. They could say that Flint is a good friend, helping them out, but the McGraw’s both claimed not to know Flint very well. And that they haven’t spoken in years.”</p><p>“So they’re hiding the affair,” Jack says, thinking as he speaks, “he spent the night, and then he buys them all these things, so… so the husband knows of the gifts—”</p><p>“Is Fint <em>buying</em> the wife?” Anne demands, and she wrinkles her nose in disgust, “I thought the Professor was a do-gooder?”</p><p>“Could you imagine? This is so much more exciting than a simple affair!” Jack says, and he could cheer with how delighted he is to have something to gossip about. </p><p>“What makes these people so special to Flint?” Max wonders, and she trails off when she notices Jack and Anne watching her. </p><p>Max shakes her head, “It was just a thought. I am not getting involved with your nonsense.” </p><p>“Please,” Anne begs, “they like you. We just want to know what’s going on, don’t you?” </p><p>Jack bats his eyes the best he can. He knows he’s not high ranking in Max’s list of people she likes, but Anne is at the top of that list, and so he hopes that swings their chances in a favorable direction. </p><p>“I can… ask around,” Max relents. </p><p>Anne leaps out of the bed to embrace and kiss her, and Jack is still caught in Anne’s orbit and so he follows suit. He thinks he probably shouldn’t, which is all the more reason to press a wet kiss to Max’s cheek. </p><p>“You are both like children,” Max growls. </p><p>“And you are an angel,” Jack informs her, “now I must inform Charles of our discovery.”</p><p>Anne gets a curious look on her face, “What if it’s not the wife?”</p><p>“Pardon?” Jack asks. </p><p>“Flint freaked out over the husband,” Anne shrugs, “Maybe he’s not fucking the wife.” </p><p>She tries to be aloof, but can’t hide her delighted grin at coming up with <em>another</em> terrible rumor about Flint. </p><p>“Darling,” Jack pleads, “Flint is a Captain, a man in power, why would he bother with a— with—- you know— when there are so many women to choose from?”</p><p>“Oh, fuck off,” Anne rolls her eyes, “you own a brothel. Why do you bother with Vane?” </p><p>Jack chokes on his words and has to drink Max’s rum to wash them down, “That is personal! And not at all related to the conversation at hand.” </p><p>Anne shrugs, “I just think it’s an angle we could consider.”</p><p>“Do not spread rumors about Captain Flint,” Max warns both of them, still stuck in their embrace, “against better judgement I will protect you, but I do not want that fight.” </p><p>“No one wants that fight,” Jack scoffs, and he steps away from the ladies, “like I said, I have to go speak with Charles. We shall reconvene later with more information. As you were, ladies!”</p><p>He blows them a kiss as he walks out the door. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Nassau Town is alive as ever. Merchants line the streets, people talk and shout about all sorts of things. Some small crowds have gathered to listen to news being relayed, or just to listen to any drunk on a soap box. </p><p>For the last few days there had been a growing crowd listening to a man talk about the future of Nassau. Unlike the pirate lords driving Nassau’s liberation, this man spoke of returning to colonial rule and the way things were. </p><p>Miranda notes he is missing today, and that the space he normally stands in is open. Nassau’s streets are narrow, forcing the people to mingle and move around one another, especially with merchants and horses moving through. It’s odd to see an open space with no reason for it. </p><p>Miranda finds herself staring, again, the novelty of it is so curious that her brain races to come up with a reason for its presence, that she does not notice their cart being approached. </p><p>“Hello Professor!” Jack Rackham calls. </p><p>And with no regard for proper boundaries or etiquette he jumps right up onto their cart. </p><p>“Ah,” Thomas falters a moment, and Miranda realizes he has forgotten Jack’s name. He had no trouble recalling Captain Vane’s name, and Rackham and his female companion were the most aggressive and rude to Thomas. Miranda would have thought they would have made more of an impression. </p><p>“Captain Rackham,” Miranda greets, to save her husband. What does this man want now? While Vane was the one Max had warned them about, it would be foolish to think that Rackham was not a threat either. He’d made his opinion of Thomas and the school clear. </p><p>“All ready for another day?” Rackham asks. He reaches into a crate and picks up one of the books Thomas has brought along to examine it. He’s mocking them, Miranda is sure of it. </p><p>“What can we do for you, sir?” Miranda snaps. </p><p>Rackham narrows his eyes at her, tilting his head slightly. Perhaps her tone is too aggressive. She is protective of Thomas, and it shows. </p><p>Rackham drops the book back into the crate he found it, “Might I suggest taking an alternate route today?”</p><p>“To— to the beach?” Thomas asks. He looks over his shoulder to speak to Rackham, and Bella continues walking the familiar route without much direction from them.</p><p>There is one main road to the beach. It would take them longer to go elsewhere and maneuver their way through town. </p><p>“Yes!” Rackham says, “a little change of scenery can be nice, don’t you think?”</p><p>He smiles, in an attempt to be sincere. His disdain for Thomas is obvious, and the smile comes out as more of a sneer. </p><p>Perhaps Rackham is handsome, Miranda figures. He’s young and intelligent, but he’s too preoccupied with himself, from his absurd facial hair to his brightly colored clothing. He gives her the impression of a weasel, or, because he’s a pirate, perhaps something slimy and writhing that one can never quite hold no matter how hard they scramble for it. </p><p>The thought of wrapping her hands around his throat and squeezing is a comforting thought. Miranda allows that to soothe her. </p><p>“Were you waiting here for us?” Miranda demands. She knew that trouble would come to them one day. </p><p>“Believe it or not,” Rackham says, “I was not. But you’re lucky I was the one to find you. There’s going to be congestion ahead, and, dear madam, there will be sights best left unseen lest they wreak havoc on your tender hearts.” </p><p>The words are kind, but his tone makes it clear that he’s mocking them. Miranda’s protectiveness of Thomas has labelled her worthy of Rackham’s scorn.</p><p>“What’s happening?” Thomas asks, with full sincerity. </p><p>“You recall the man Flint mauled— well, no, you wouldn’t,” Rackham moves up the cart so he can crouch between the two of them, “you remember the blood? That Flint was covered in? From the man he attacked on the day you were reunited? Well, that man was convinced that Nassau should return to colonial rule, and was sure that the best method to do so, was to kill Flint.” </p><p>Miranda knows that James’ violence hurts Thomas. She thinks back to his words, that this entire situation is a tragedy. </p><p>“What of it?” Miranda demands. </p><p>Rackham pauses again to look at her. She cannot tell if he is amused or annoyed by her temper with him. </p><p>“The man had friends,” Rackham says, and the implication occurs to Miranda just as it occurs to Thomas. </p><p>“Have they hurt James?” Thomas asks. </p><p>Rackham’s face goes through a series of quick expressions. Max had told Miranda that he was smart, and also an ass, but that he was one of the most intelligent men on the island after Flint. For all that he seems to be a bully, Miranda must remember that he is cunning. </p><p>“Such concern,” Rackham says, “I thought you were practically strangers to one another?”</p><p>“Was James hurt?” Miranda asks. </p><p>Rackham files away some sort of information from their responses. What he is thinking, Miranda could not know. How strange is it for people to worry for someone they know? </p><p>“No,” Rackham finally says, “Flint is fine. But I can’t say the same for these traitors, now that Flint caught them.” </p><p>Oh. Now it makes sense. A public execution, most likely. </p><p>“Hanging is not a foreign concept,” Miranda says. She looks to Thomas. This violence was not unnatural back home in London. Can Thomas fault James for this?</p><p>“A hanging?” Rackham laughs, “if only. Flint’s in a mood, hence, I got out of his way. He tends to not like me very much and I would rather he not be thinking about me at all right now.” </p><p><em>A mood</em>. Miranda and Thomas know well the dark tides that could take hold in James. The same mood that caused him to rise to their defense, to protect them. It’s this same place that springs the capability for bloodshed in which Miranda sees his heroism and Thomas sees his villainy. </p><p>“By the way, do you two happen to know anything about that?” Rackham asks. </p><p>Now his obnoxiousness makes sense. He’s hunting for information. Miranda stays silent. </p><p>Rackham doesn’t let up, “He’s been away for a week, by all accounts there is no news on the war to upset him. He arrives home, takes a horse, and leaves town. And when he returns, he is in such a mood that he’s taken to attacking—”</p><p>“Sir,” Thomas interrupts, “which— which route do you suggest we take?” </p><p>“That all depends,” Rackham says, “do you want to see your friend or not?” </p><p>Miranda makes the decision quickly, “We don’t need to see that—” </p><p>“Or maybe we should,” Thomas says. </p><p>Miranda looks at her husband in shock. </p><p>“This is Nassau,” Thomas says, and his hands tremble where he holds Bella’s reins, “this will be a look at her true self.” </p><p>“Have you been talking to Vane?” Rackham asks in surprise.</p><p>And it is at this time, as the three of them have been consumed with conversation, that they round a corner and come upon the street leading past the tavern. </p><p>The street is clear, save for a small group of men standing in a loose circle. From here Miranda has the vantage point of the cart to give her view of James as he grinds a mans hand into the dirt with the heel of his boot. The man screams.</p><p>Bella stops in her tracks at the sound, and her ears flicker nervously. </p><p>James steps away from the man, wiping his face. It smears blood, fresh from his fingers, across his chin. It looks like warpaint. He moves in a small circle away from the man, before turning back to stand over him. </p><p>Miranda realizes that she has never seen this much blood before. </p><p>There are two other men laying in the circle. Their bodies are limp with unconsciousness. </p><p>“Oh, yikes,” Rackham hisses. </p><p>The man on the ground says something, and at this distance Miranda doesn’t know what it is. He reaches an arm up towards James. The position gives her a clue. Mercy, likely. He’s begging for mercy. </p><p>James rewards him with a kick to the face. </p><p>The men watching all have a hand on a weapon, but none drawn. They must be members of James’ crew, standing at support as their Captain assaults these men. </p><p>James has no weapon drawn. He must have done all of this damage with his fists. His lips are drawn back in a snarl, like a man possessed. </p><p>Miranda is transfixed by the entire scene. She’s never seen anything like this. </p><p>She doesn’t realize Thomas has leapt off the cart until he’s running towards James. Cold dread seeps into Miranda’s heart. Thomas <em>will</em> intervene. And she— she fears for him being hurt. By who? James? She doesn’t know. But she fears for him. </p><p>Miranda’s feet hit the ground and she gathers her skirts to chase after him. </p><p>Like watching two points in space with perfect clarity, she sees Thomas run, she sees James grab the man by the front of his shirt, to strike him again. </p><p>James’ crew catch Thomas before he can interrupt. </p><p>“James!” Thomas shouts. </p><p>James goes still. He does not become a statue, held in the moment, but instead he is a lion poised to strike. Miranda is only steps behind Thomas. The crew block her path, but they look t their Captain for guidance. </p><p>James rises slowly from his crouch. Up close Miranda can see now the blood splatter on his dark clothes, the scratches on his arms from fingernails. The marks on his face from where he was hit. </p><p>“Stop!” Thomas pleads. James looks down at the bodies around him as if seeing them for the first time. He says nothing. </p><p>James’ crew look from James, to another man with dark hair and a cane. The infamous one-legged John Silver, if Miranda is correct. </p><p>Silver clears his throat, “I don’t believe you're in any position to give orders, Professor.”</p><p>Miranda can’t look away from James, and so she catches the moment James blinks at Silver’s words, like he’s coming out of a daze. </p><p>“What could this possibly accomplish? They can’t fight back!” Thomas says. </p><p>James draws his pistol. </p><p>“They can always fight back,” James growls. </p><p>“Captain!” Rackham calls, and he pushes Miranda and Thomas aside as he walks through James’ crew, “it looks like you have the situation handled quite well!” </p><p>James turns his scowl on Rackham. He remains silent. The man on the ground, facing the business end of James’ pistol, whimpers loudly. </p><p>“But I will say,” Rackham says, “as much as this would relieve a headache of mine, perhaps we shouldn’t go around making martyrs?” </p><p>Miranda can’t imagine the damage it would do to Thomas to see James act like a monster in front of him. She pushes herself forwards. The crewmen are unsure what to do with a woman and let her pass. James’ gaze focuses on her. She looks into his eyes, into his soul. She knows him, he loves her. </p><p>“James, please,” Miranda asks, “you don’t need to—” </p><p>The gunshot is deafening.</p><p>Blood splatters across the road, the man on the ground goes limp like a puppet with its strings cut. Miranda feels like she has stepped into a dream. </p><p>“You do not give the orders here,” James snarls. He doesn’t look away from her. </p><p>Miranda feels faint. She’s never seen so much blood. The tip of James’ pistol smokes. He hadn’t even hesitated. Not flinched, not paused. She had asked him not to and he— in direct defiance of her. </p><p>She knows many people who have fainted when presented with great shock. Miranda always thought herself better, stronger, than that. She is not some weak-willed, feeble mind to be overcome by the world. </p><p>She feels very much like she is going to faint now. </p><p>James doesn’t look away from her until Silver’s cane taps against the ground as he walks closer to James. He says something, but the words are low and Miranda cannot hear him. James looks back to her, at Thomas. She wants to reach out for him, but she feels meek. She… she is afraid. She’s sick. </p><p>James takes a step closer to her, holding her in his hardened gaze. He’s looking at her like a stranger. </p><p>“I think I’ve made myself clear,” he says to her, “do not call on me again.” </p><p>He turns on his heel and walks away. Silver walks beside him. His crew follows.</p><p>“Fuck,” Rackham says, and puts his hands on his hips, “this is a fine fucking mess.” </p><p>A hand reaches out to grab at her arm, and Miranda practically falls into Thomas. She sobs, a weak, pathetic noise like a dying animal. She’s never seen someone killed before. Miranda’s legs have turned to water, and she drops. It is only Thomas’ grip on her that keeps her from falling completely. He sinks to the ground with her.</p><p>“Darling, look away,” Thomas insists. Miranda cannot. James did this. She looked into his eyes, asked him not to— and he had. He had done this in direct defiance of her. To make a point. He is just as awful and terrible as the stories of him say. He is capable of great violence, and kills a man without hesitation. This is the man she wants to love. </p><p>It becomes startlingly clear, in this moment, how Thomas sees James’ story as a tragedy. How could anyone look at the blood spilled in her name, and think it was a love story? How could Miranda have been so naive? </p><p>Rackham moves to join them, and he takes Miranda under her arm and hoists her to her feet.</p><p>“Let’s get you some tea. Or, well, rum might be better,” he says. Thomas clings to Miranda just as tightly as she holds to him. She thinks they might be trying to hold each other up.</p><p>She should be thinking of Thomas. He must be horrified. She can’t bring herself to voice a single thought. What can she say? </p><p>“I can’t believe you tried to talk Flint out of it,” Rackham says, “what did you expect? For him to submit to you? Did you really think you had that kind of power over him?” </p><p>Yes. Miranda almost admits it. Yes, she did. She truly did. She thought James loved her enough to do terrible things for her, that he would always bend to her. The truth is that he loves her in spite of his darkness, but she is not greater than it. She never was. </p><p>Rackham loads them into their own cart, and takes up Bella’s reins himself. Miranda doesn’t even think to ask where he might be taking them. </p><p>How was she so blind to not see the man that James has become? That he has always been? How could she, with any good conscience, say that she loves him? That she <em>wants</em> to love him? She’s never felt so stupid in her life. </p><p>James had tried to warn her. Thomas has warned her. Everyone has warned her against James, and like a fool, she thought she was smarter than all of them. </p><p>She is Icarus, flying high on her own sense of righteousness, and here is her fall. </p><p>She trembles and holds close to Thomas.</p><p>They leave the bodies in the street.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>[Nicki Minaj voice] <em>yikes</em></p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Chapter 7</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Thank you everyone for all the support! Last chapter was defs dark and hurtful :((( but I wanted to go with the original prompt for this fic which is in the summary: "Flint has been on his own for 10 years. He’s the avatar of darkness and savagery. An unlovable, feral monster. He’s their James. And look what he’s made of himself."</p>
<p>We heard a lot about how brutal Captain Flint can be. And now the Hamilton's have seen it. </p>
<p>So, inevitably, here's some fallout</p>
<p>Side note: there's a decent amount of swearing in this chapter, and even with the violence of the last chapter, I was still gonna leave this story at the teen rating. Though... I am considering bumping the rating for a reunion sex scene lol</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Lady McGraw,” Max says gently, “I am so sorry you had to witness that.”</p>
<p>The McGraw’s are still in a stupor. Max’s heart breaks for them. They are so soft, and unaccustomed to the brutal realities of Nassau. Jack had come to fetch her once he had them settled at the brothel. They look distraught, Lady McGraw slightly more so than her husband. Both look like they will be ill, or perhaps were ill on the ride over. It’s painful to see two people in such a state. </p>
<p>Isabelle drops off a platter of warm food for the two of them. They haven’t much touched the rum Jack provided yet. Max doubts they will eat.  </p>
<p>Max steps away from their table in the corner, to speak with Jack. </p>
<p>“What happened?” she asks. </p>
<p>“As if I know,” Jack shrugs, “Flint was in a fucking mood. I thought he was just going brawling, you know, like a normal person.”</p>
<p>“He staged an <em>execution</em>,” Max hisses, “while we are trying to establish peace!”</p>
<p>“I know, I was there!” Jack reminds her.</p>
<p>“Why didn’t you stop him?” Max demands. </p>
<p>Jack gestures at the McGraw’s, “I was! And then she stepped in like she could tell Flint what to do, and, guess what happens when you tell Flint he can’t do something?” </p>
<p>Max glances over her shoulder at Lady McGraw. Her husband is holding her hand and speaking to her gently. </p>
<p>“She stood up to Flint?” Max asks, “while he was holding a gun?”</p>
<p>Jack’s incredulous expression mirrors the surprise that Max feels, “While I think that may have been the stupidest thing I’ve ever seen, I don’t think our dear lady is a complete idiot. She must have thought she had the power to talk Flint down, or has even done so before.” </p>
<p>Max steps back, “If this is about your obsession with Flint’s personal life—”</p>
<p>“It’s all part of the mystery!” Jack insists, “this really only confirms that there has to be an affair somewhere—”</p>
<p>“I think it confirms that Flint does <em>not</em> care about them in the way you think,” Max points out. </p>
<p>“But there is something,” Jack says, “which makes this worth my time.”</p>
<p>“It is worth your time because if we do not get Flint under control, he could ruin everything we’ve built,” Max growls. </p>
<p>“Of course,” Jack agrees, “but therein lays the problem: when the <em>fuck</em> has anyone ever had Flint under control?” </p>
<p>Vane joins them as Jack finishes speaking. He lights a cigar on one of the wall torches on his way in. </p>
<p>“I sent Anne to get Silver,” Vane says, “should be along shortly.” </p>
<p>“Is Silver any more reasonable than Flint?” Jack asks, “most days they’re practically the same person.”</p>
<p>“Silver is less likely to shoot you while you talk to him,” Vane remarks, “so at least we’ll get our say in. Besides, he’s the only one who can talk Flint down.” </p>
<p>Vane glances over at the McGraw’s, “Why’re they here? Were they involved?”</p>
<p>“They’re upset,” Max snaps, and she resists the urge to roll her eyes, “they aren’t used to how dangerous Nassau can be.” </p>
<p>Vane grunts acknowledgement at her words, and continues watching them. </p>
<p>“So, what, we get Silver here and tell him… what? Exactly? Put Flint on a leash? Send him to his room? What is our protocol here?”  Jack asks. </p>
<p>“We’ll deal with that when Silver can tell us what the fuck is going on with Flint,” Max groans.</p>
<p>Vane is still watching the McGraw’s, and it’s now making Max worried. </p>
<p>“You look like you want to put them out of their misery,” Jack comments, “should we be worried?” </p>
<p>Vane takes his cigar out of his mouth to growl, “Fuck you, Jack.” </p>
<p>“I heard you've been around the school,” Max notes, “I would ask that, even if you don’t like them, could you please not harass—”</p>
<p>Vane snorts, and looks between Max and Jack, “I don’t like them?”</p>
<p>“You made yourself perfectly clear upon introductions,” Jack says, “you even complained to me how stupid the book he gave you was.”</p>
<p>Vane shrugs, “It was a shitty book. But I like the Prof.” </p>
<p>Max was… not expecting that. </p>
<p>Neither was Jack, clearly.</p>
<p>“What?” he stammers, “when? How? <em>Why</em>?”</p>
<p>Vane looks at the two of them like <em>they</em> are the weird ones, “He’s right. Education gives a man a future. Changed my life when Teach took me in, taught me to read and shit. Everyone should have that chance.” </p>
<p>“You threatened to kill him,” Max reminds Vane. Why are the men on this island so damn dramatic?</p>
<p>Vane looks to Jack rather than answer her, “Do you think Flint is after them?” </p>
<p>Jack shrugs, “I honestly have no idea what Flint is after at all.”</p>
<p>“We should expect some sort of retaliation, at least,” Vane muses, “I’ll keep an eye on the Professor for now.”</p>
<p>“Do you expect retaliation from Flint or from the loyalists?” Max asks. </p>
<p>Vane gives her a one-syllable grunt in response.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Anne arrives with Silver in tow not much later. Silver does not look anywhere near as ashamed as he should be for letting Flint be so reckless. </p>
<p>“You need to get your man in line!” Max hisses as soon as she sees him. </p>
<p>Silver’s expression is deliberately happy, “When has anyone ever been able to control Flint?” he asks. </p>
<p>He looks around. The brothel is mostly empty this early in the day. The girls are cleaning up from last night and enjoying breakfast. Silver’s eyes settle on the McGraw’s, still sitting a ways away. His expression grows cold. Thomas returns the look. Max watches them both carefully. There’s nuance, layers here. It must have something to do with Flint’s outburst. Max is glad she got the McGraw’s to stay long enough to hopefully put Silver on edge. </p>
<p>“This is Flint’s vision we’ve created here,” Jack says, and gestures around, “we fought his war, and we won. So why is he sabotaging it?” </p>
<p>“It’s not sabotage,” Silver laughs, and he’s back to smiling as if nothing is bothering him, “we dealt with a problem. You should be thanking us.” </p>
<p>“You let him make a big fucking mess,” Vane growls, “and now we have to clean it up.” </p>
<p>“We can’t afford this,” Max insists. </p>
<p>“So what?” Silver gestures widely with his free hand, “we just let these men talk freely about wanting to return to English rule? We allow for free speech against us?”</p>
<p>“We can’t go around killing anyone who doesn’t like what we do!” Max stresses. </p>
<p>“Why not?” Silver presses, “is that not how Nassau has always worked?” </p>
<p>“Because we are building something <em>better</em>!” Max shouts, “we have to do better!” </p>
<p>“Moreso, we need to know if Flint is going to act out again,” Jack adds. </p>
<p>“I am not his keeper,” Silver reminds them. </p>
<p>“No, but you’re the only one he’ll reason with,” Vane snaps, “so you need to make him hear some fucking sense.”</p>
<p>“You’re acting like he’s having a tantrum,” Silver laughs, “what am I to do? Ground him? Like a child? Is this what we do to the man who made all of this possible? Who rallied all of us to a cause we couldn’t begin to understand, until it was nearly too late?” </p>
<p>Max sighs loudly, “We are not asking for a betrayal. Perhaps you can take him off the island, let him work out his aggressions elsewhere.” </p>
<p>“Send him away until he’s willing to comply,” Silver repeats, and shakes his head before he says, “this still sounds like a coup.” </p>
<p>“This is how we preserve what we fought for,” Vane gets to his feet, and pulls down the collar of his shirt to show the marks on his neck from his hanging, “what we bled and died for.” </p>
<p>“Professor,” Jack calls, and everyone takes a moment to watch the McGraw’s lift their heads from their table, “do you have any valuable insights on your man?” </p>
<p>Thomas glances between them all, eyes wide. </p>
<p>“He appears vexed,” Thomas says slowly, “though if you are asking if our past gives me any insight into him now, I am afraid I don’t think I know the man he is at all.” </p>
<p>“Your wife seems to know him well enough. Or at least, she thought she did,” Jack says with a sneer. </p>
<p>Lady McGraw glares at Jack from across the room. Max is impressed with her nerve. Or, perhaps, she shares the same reckless foolishness as her husband. In any case, Jack mocking them won’t make them willing to give up any information they might have on Flint. </p>
<p>“Shut up, Jack,” Vane snaps.</p>
<p>“I can take him to the Maroons,” Silver says with a sigh, “we were planning on returning eventually, so it won’t be hard to convince him. It’ll be good to work without any distractions.”</p>
<p>Silver happens to glance at the McGraw’s as he finishes his sentence, and his look is outright disdainful. Max wonders if he is aware of it. </p>
<p>“Fine,” Max says, agreeable, “we will take care of things here.” </p>
<p>“Don’t ask me to meet behind his back again,” Silver orders, and taps his cane on the ground for effect, “good day.”</p>
<p>“<em>Distractions</em>,” Jack purrs as soon as Silver has left. Max wills him to shut up. </p>
<p>Vane gets to his feet, “C’mon, Prof. It’s time for school. I’ll walk with you.” </p>
<p>He looks at Max from across the room, and not for the first time, Max reminds herself that for all he is a brute, Vane is still dangerously smart. Divide and conquer is an excellent strategy. </p>
<p>Thomas shakes his head, “Actually, I think I will take Miranda home—”</p>
<p>“Lady McGraw can stay with me,” Max offers, “I still feel terrible that you had to go through this. Let me offer you a quiet place to recover, until you are done teaching and can return home.” </p>
<p>“Thank you for the generosity,” Thomas says. He’s looking at Max, and so does not see how Lady McGraw looks up to study Max curiously. </p>
<p>She’s no fool, that’s for sure. </p>
<p>“That would be lovely,” Lady McGraw decides. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Thank you for the company,” Thomas says, to make conversation. </p>
<p>Captain Vane, walking on the other side of Bella, gives barely any acknowledgement that Thomas has been heard. </p>
<p>He looks like a real pirate, by what Thomas had always imagined. Skin darkened by the sun, long, wild hair braided with shells and feathers and ribbons. His clothing looks like it has never truly been clean, and he walks around with barely a shirt on and no shame for his modesty. He is a man completely at home and comfortable with the lack of any proper etiquette. He’s fascinating. </p>
<p>It’s nearly enough distraction to not be thinking of Miranda, and how upset she must feel. Thomas wants nothing more than to take her home, and nurse her broken heart. But sitting all day indoors, treating her as if she is porcelain, will rouse her anger rather than soothe her. She is such a strong woman, that Thomas knows the tremendous force it takes to bring her to her knees. </p>
<p>He thinks James knows as well. The two of them were always so similar. Like they could carry the weight of the world, and not buckle under it. But like Achilles and his heel, one well-placed cut could ruin them. </p>
<p>“I worry that you’ll run at another man with a gun if someone doesn’t stop you,” Vane says, and laughs at the thought, “and the next might be more likely to pull the trigger on you.”</p>
<p>“I don’t regret it,” Thomas says, “that man didn’t need to die. I’ll intervene every time.” </p>
<p>“Don’t they do public hangings in England? Did you try and stop it there?” Vane asks. </p>
<p>“They were hanged after a trial,” Thomas argues, “each man has a fair chance— they know the line between what is allowed and what isn’t. What James did… what happened…”</p>
<p>“That’s Nassau,” Vane shrugs. He’s still smoking down a cigar and talks with it in his teeth. </p>
<p>“That’s horrible,” Thomas says. </p>
<p>“Just because it’s not like London doesn’t mean it’s bad,” Vane snaps, “this is freedom. Get used to it.” </p>
<p>Thomas pauses. Clearly, he’s struck a nerve. </p>
<p>“Pardon me for asking,” he starts slowly, “but my wife has grown concerned lately. Are you threatening me, sir, or are we having conversations? She seems to think it is the former, and, well, I find I seem to be getting a bit of both, lately.”</p>
<p>Vane gives him an incredulous look, “And you don’t think I’m threatening you?” </p>
<p>“I think you are intense,” Thomas agrees. </p>
<p>Vane laughs and takes his cigar out of his mouth, “I like you, Prof. I think it’s important for a man to know how to read. It changed my life. But if you’re looking to educate us to make civilized men of us all, I’ll kill you myself.” </p>
<p>Thomas nods, “Ah, yes, I suppose that does clear things up.” </p>
<p>“You’re weird,” Vane grunts. </p>
<p>Thomas laughs, “You’re one of the first people to admit that to my face.” </p>
<p>Vane makes a noise of acknowledgement, and they continue their walk to the beach. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“You said your life changed when someone gave you an education?” Thomas inquires. They’ve pulled the cart onto the beach. Vane helps unload the books and paper for writing on. He lifts twice as much as Thomas with ease. </p>
<p>Vane places the boxes on the sand, and dusts off his hands. </p>
<p>“Let’s get the tent up,” he says instead of answering. </p>
<p>It’s on the tip of Thomas’ tongue to ask again, to pry, but he’s coming to see that Vane likes to take some time to form an answer, if he wishes to answer at all. The man likes to hold his tongue and his silence is as much of an answer as his words. </p>
<p>He reminds Thomas of James in that way. </p>
<p>Vane whistles sharply and calls over some men that Thomas doesn’t know. Between them they get the tent pitched quickly. </p>
<p>“I was born a slave,” Vane says as Thomas organizes himself, “was nearly a man before I was freed. I didn’t know shit, didn’t know anything other than blind obedience. Didn’t even know what freedom meant.” </p>
<p>Thomas stops his work to look at him. He can’t imagine a man like Vane in any kind of bondage. Which, of course, is likely intentional. Vane will never go back to chains; he will never allow anyone to have control of him. A better picture of him forms in Thomas’ mind. </p>
<p>“Teach taught me to read, to sail. The only reason I stand here now is because of him, because of what he gave me. Everyone should have that chance to claim their own freedom,” Vane says, and he locks eyes with Thomas to say, “and I’ll die before I let it get taken away.” </p>
<p>“That’s incredible,” Thomas says, and then some of Vane’s words sink in, “did— did you say Teach? As in <em>the</em> Teach?”</p>
<p>Vane’s grin is crooked, “The very same. Freed me and raised me.”</p>
<p>To think that James has lived amongst the likes of Vane and Teach, and come out with their respect. Thomas knows he could not have done the same. </p>
<p>“You are a very interesting man,” Thomas says, “have you ever considered writing a book?” </p>
<p>Vane’s nose wrinkles as he squints at Thomas, “What?” </p>
<p>“Give a voice to your story,” Thomas says, “I, for one, would be fascinated to read it. And I am sure there would be many around the world even who would love to know the mind of a pirate.” </p>
<p>“And have some rich assholes debate my life like it’s a game?” Vane shakes his head as he laughs, “nah.” </p>
<p>“You should think on it,” Thomas says, “or let me write it. I’d love to hear more.”  </p>
<p>“You’re weird,” Vane repeats, but he’s hiding a smile. </p>
<p>Thomas finds himself smiling as well. He knew he could win some pirates over. He’s far more charming than Miranda gives him credit for. </p>
<p>They work in silence for a little longer.</p>
<p>“Have you always been like this?” Vane asks.</p>
<p>“Like what?” Thomas asks, playing dumb. He knows what Vane is asking, but he wants to hear it out loud. He’s curious as to how the pirate sees him. </p>
<p>Vane scowls, struggling to find the words, “Nice. Kind of stupid. But you genuinely seem to want to help people.” </p>
<p>“Yes,” Thomas agrees with a laugh, “my wife calls me ‘recklessly optimistic’. I think every man has some good in him, and it’s worth fighting for.” </p>
<p>“But you know people aren’t as good as you think they are,” Vane argues, “people will always look after their best interests. And if they don’t, they’re idiots.” </p>
<p>“I believe in a world where everyone’s best interests are for everyone else,” Thomas says with a shrug, “and I can’t get there unless I show it.”</p>
<p>Vane shakes his head with an inaudible mumble. Thomas assumes he’s being called stupid. He’s quite used to it. </p>
<p>Several more men than normal come to join the school, likely inspired by Vane’s presence. For once the heat of Nassau feels accommodating, and Thomas thinks he has the overcast sky to thank for that. It’s almost a bearable temperature today. </p>
<p>Thomas can’t help but continue to glance out for any sign of James. He never sees him. </p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>“Will my husband be safe with Captain Vane?” Lady McGraw asks. She looks out over the streets below from the window seat in Max’s office. </p>
<p>It’s a valid question. </p>
<p>“As safe as he can be,” Max says, “no one else will dare bother him with Vane present. He commands a lot of respect on the island.”</p>
<p>“He does not seem fond of my husband,” Lady McGraw says sharply, “it is him I worry about most of all.” </p>
<p>Max thinks of Vane's confession, that he found himself fond of Thomas McGraw. She feels it has to be a lie, as it does not seem in Vane’s character to want friends. But one thing she knows of Vane is that he does not lie. What he speaks is his truth, always. </p>
<p>“Vane said he would escort your husband to the beach, safely,” Max says, “I take the Captain at his word. Your husband will be fine.” </p>
<p>Lady McGraw’s face is tight. She forces herself to look away from the window. </p>
<p>“Ask your questions,” Lady McGraw says sharply, “you wanted me alone for a reason.” </p>
<p>Max rises from her chair and walks around her desk. She comes to stand beside Lady McGraw. </p>
<p>“There is no need for anger,” Max soothes her, “I come as a friend.” </p>
<p>“What do you want?” Lady McGraw asks. </p>
<p>Once again Max finds herself intrigued by Lady McGraw’s cunning mind, and manipulative tactics. She’s too upset right now to be smooth at it, and likely she has not met someone who plays her games as well as Max can. She’s resorting to being bullish. Max can soothe that ire. </p>
<p>“I started as a whore, here in Nassau,” and Max nods out the window, across the street where they can see the open doors to the brothel, “I had nothing. I was nothing.”</p>
<p>Lady McGraw is quiet a moment before she says, “That’s quite a change. Congratulations.” </p>
<p>“It did not come without tremendous sacrifice,” Max says, “but it proves to me the one thing I know to be true about Nassau: she is always changing. No one remains the same, if they do not wish it.” </p>
<p>“I suppose that is a benefit to being without strict laws and societal norms,” Lady McGraw concludes. </p>
<p>“Ambition is rewarded,” Max agrees, “and it is often punished. Those in power here have remained in power through the strength of their will alone, and a bit of luck. I have seen Captains rise and fall.” </p>
<p>“Captain Flint has been around for some time,” Lady McGraw points out, not unsubtly. </p>
<p>“Yes,” Max says, “he and Vane are currently the longest-standing Captains here. I believe they are some of the greatest Captains to sail these seas, and perhaps some of the greatest pirates to have ever lived.” </p>
<p>“Impressive,” Lady McGraw comments lightly, as if she is not very interested, “were you here when James came to the island?” </p>
<p>She recognizes her slip too late, being too familiar with Flint’s real name. To her credit, she doesn’t make any show of it, to draw attention to the fact. </p>
<p>“I am just curious as to the change from last we knew him, to what has transpired here,” she says quickly. </p>
<p>Max moves away from her to go to her cabinet. She keeps good rum here, and brings two glasses for her and Lady McGraw. </p>
<p>“I made many mistakes in my time here,” Max says, and she sits down beside Lady McGraw, and hands her an empty glass. She pours generously into it, and then for herself, “including loving the wrong person.” </p>
<p>Lady McGraw narrows her eyes at Max, but she says nothing to deny or prove anything that Max is implying.</p>
<p>“I loved someone who chose Nassau over me. Who thought the power this place could give, was worth losing me,” Max explains, and takes a moment to compose herself, “it broke my heart. I thought the pain alone could kill me.” </p>
<p>“That must have been horrible,” Lady McGraw says, “is he still alive?” </p>
<p>“She is,” Max says, and she watches Lady McGraw’s face for the look of shock and the pronouns, “her name was Eleanor Guthrie, though, now she has married Woodes Rogers.”</p>
<p>“The Governor?” Lady McGraw asks, and she sips her rum as she takes in the information. </p>
<p>“She wanted power, and status, and now she has it,” Max says, “I hope she finds happiness, wherever they have gone.” </p>
<p>“That’s kind of you to say,” Lady McGraw says. </p>
<p>“At first I wished she would die,” Max confesses, “or something horrible would happen to her, just to appease the pain I felt. And then I came to learn, that even though I loved her, it did not matter if she thrived or if she lost everything: I would still have nothing if I did not move on.”</p>
<p>Lady McGraw studies Max closely before sipping her rum, “You are much wiser than most girls your age.” </p>
<p>Max wonders if she could ask about Lady McGraw’s past. Was she wise beyond her years, or did she come into her awareness through experience? She has a feeling Lady McGraw has always been smart, and has always been looked over because of it. </p>
<p>“I could not have loved and lost Eleanor like I did here in Nassau,” Max explains, “this is a unique place of joy, and pain. Such is the burden of freedom, I suppose, but it is something I do not wish to ever give up.” </p>
<p>Lady McGraw looks distant, like she is thinking, “I hope you find love again.” </p>
<p>“I have, thank you,” Max says, and she leans in to add conspiratorially, “Anne makes my heart sing. She makes me feel like a lovestruck fool, every time I see her.” </p>
<p>“Love makes fools of us all,” Lady McGraw agrees, and she smiles along with Max. </p>
<p>“Lady McGraw—,” Max starts.</p>
<p>Lady McGraw cuts her off, “Call me Miranda,” she says, “I believe we are going to become quite friendly.” </p>
<p>Max nods in agreement, “Miranda,” she says again, and because she knows Miranda is smart enough to see through any games she might play, she goes for direct, “did you love Captain Flint?”</p>
<p>“What is my personal life to you?” Miranda asks. Her eyes are sharp, defensive. </p>
<p>“I do not imply any judgement,” Max says softly, “I shared my story so you may know that I understand you. Your grief is not for the killing you saw today. You have a broken heart.” </p>
<p>Miranda drinks rather than respond. </p>
<p>“I am here as a friend,” Max assures her, “and I am no gossip. What we speak of here, stays between us.” </p>
<p>“You think I have some hand in how James is acting,” Miranda says, “you want me to share his secrets so you can better manipulate him. Is that it?” </p>
<p>“Do you owe him any loyalty?” Max asks. </p>
<p>It is a loaded question. Does she love him still? Does he love her? Is she loyal to him, even if the love has soured?</p>
<p>Miranda drinks again. </p>
<p>“It is no secret that Flint has been acting unusually since reuniting with you,” Max says. She carefully does not mention Thomas, as the reminder of her husband may remind Miranda that she must protect him. Miranda is fiercely protective of her husband. </p>
<p>“I am aware of the gifts he has purchased for you: the housing repairs, the horse. It’s very out of character for a man like Flint.”</p>
<p>“What is his character?” Miranda asks, “as you know James? What is he like?” </p>
<p>“He is a man dedicated to a cause, to a point over the horizon,” Max says, “and he will not be turned from his course, not for anything. He makes enemies faster than any man I have ever known, and yet here he stands and his enemies are either dead, or work alongside him. I have never known a man who uses words like he does, to inspire and motivate. He is angry, and calculating. He is dangerous. He is like a legend.” </p>
<p>Max pauses a moment to look at Miranda, “Is that how you knew him?” </p>
<p>“I knew him ten years ago,” Miranda says, which is an answer in and of itself. </p>
<p>“Ten years can change a person,” Max agrees. So then has Flint’s actions been out of guilt? Now that he is being reminded of an affair he once had? Or does he still care for Miranda, and his actions are a result of that? It feels too likely that the McGraw’s are involved somehow. </p>
<p>“Pardon my forwardness,” Miranda says, “you speak so freely of your love for— with— other women. It seems to me that you have no shame to it?” </p>
<p>“I understand it is difficult to believe,” Max says, “but in Nassau we are not beholden to the same laws and judgments you would find in the rest of the world. I keep my life private simply because of who I am, but I have no shame in it. I would name Anne my lover without fear here.” </p>
<p>“And you fear no retaliation?” Miranda asks. </p>
<p>“There could be retaliation,” Max reasons, “simply because people in power make enemies, but it would not be because of our love. That is not a fight to be had.”</p>
<p>“What a strange place,” Miranda reasons. </p>
<p>“It is very different,” Max allows her, “hopefully one day you can understand.”</p>
<p>Miranda sips her rum, and they sit in silence a moment. The sounds of the street carry through the window, creating a soothing backdrop. </p>
<p>“Flint has talked of his dream for this place for years,” Max says, and she looks out the window, “he sounded like a madman for most of the time, but he would cut down anyone who tried to silence him, and made himself indispensable to Nassau’s future. He was the perfect pirate: efficient, fierce, intelligent. Profitable. He helped run off the reigning Captains, alongside Vane and Eleanor, and they became the power in Nassau. And Flint never wavered from this ‘coming war’ that only he could see. And now that war has come, and I hope it has passed.” </p>
<p>“Dedication like that,” Miranda pauses a moment, lost in thought, “that’s admirable.” </p>
<p>“It shows incredible willpower,” Max agrees, “I can see what you saw in him.”</p>
<p>Miranda laughs, and drinks her rum. They’ve both nearly finished their glasses. </p>
<p>“We had an affair,” she finally admits, “you are correct. It came to light, and the shame of it drove us all from polite society.”</p>
<p>“I am sorry to hear that,” Max says. </p>
<p>“So, yes,” Miranda says, “it is likely our presence has bothered James. But not… not because he harbours any feelings for me. He and Thomas were good friends. The betrayal has left wounds on all of us, and I am sure we had all hoped to move on. I do not fear retribution from James, not with the friendship he had with Thomas.” </p>
<p>Max nods along as she listens. The information does align with the actions of parties involved. Flint going out of his way to help the McGraw's settle in, in buying them things, is likely an act of forgiveness, or at least, asking for it. And no wonder both Thomas and Flint had feared meeting one another. </p>
<p>“As to Flint and yourself,” Max says slowly, and perhaps she is a little drunk. This is a lot of rum to be having first thing in the morning, “between the two of us… I believe Flint may still harbor feelings for you.” </p>
<p>There’s a flush to Miranda’s face, and she is likely also feeling the effects of the rum, “Just because he has not been to a brothel does not mean he is in love with me. He killed a man today, specifically because I asked him not to.”</p>
<p>“Men are stupid,” Max says, and Miranda laughs, though her eyes are bright with tears, “and they begin to act even more foolishly when their hearts are exposed.” </p>
<p>“He defied me because he cares for me?” Miranda laughs, “perhaps you know the hearts of women, but I think you are unaccustomed to men.” </p>
<p>“A Captain bends his knee to no one,” Max says, “his men must know he is powerful, or they will turn on him. Were he to go to his knees for you, it would weaken him. And if he wants to? After all he has worked for? You must terrify him.”</p>
<p>Miranda finishes her rum, and holds out her glass for another round. Max pours liberally.</p>
<p> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>It’s like being becalmed. Nothing stirs, he moves through his motions without a ripple on the surface. He is stranded a hundred miles away, in his own mind, and there is no one to rescue him. Days could pass, in this state, and Flint would not know it. </p>
<p>He left them there. He left Miranda and Thomas, distraught, because of him. </p>
<p>Flint knew they could never love him again, the way he wants them to, and now he’s gone and made sure of it. Silver had asked him to turn them away, to be done with them. Flint had said the words, told them he was distancing himself, but they hadn’t heeded. Miranda sought him out, and he needed to take the actions to be sure she understood. </p>
<p>There’s nothing to love in a monster. He can give her nothing that won’t be stained by his dirty hands. </p>
<p>He wants to run to them, as fast as his feet will take him, and beg forgiveness. He saw the look on Miranda's face. The pain that he caused. Flint knows where she came from, of wanting and never getting the love she needed. Of how careful she was with her heart and her trust, and how she’d found him worthy enough to have her love. </p>
<p>He couldn’t have hurt her in any worse way. Flint could buckle where he stands, at the knowledge of the blow he’s dealt her. </p>
<p>She has Thomas, he has to remind himself. They’ve had ten years without him, to grow closer and more in love. Ten years to grow accustomed to not having Flint around. </p>
<p>He finds himself looking over his shoulder, hoping to see either of them. He thinks he might apologize if he does. </p>
<p>Silver hardly leaves his side all day. Flint can’t tell if he’s trying to be a comforting presence, or a reminder of the promise Flint made to leave the Hamilton’s behind him. He supposes it’s probably a bit of both. </p>
<p>“They want you off the island,” Silver says when he’s returned from the secret meeting Flint wasn’t invited to. </p>
<p>Flint scoffs, “They’re being overdramatic.”</p>
<p>“You were out of line,” Silver says.</p>
<p>“I was making a point!” Flint snaps. </p>
<p>“To who?” Silver asks. He doesn’t elaborate. He doesn’t need to.</p>
<p>“What’s done is done,” Flint growls. Is it too early to be drinking? He doesn’t think so. He’d like to retreat to his cabin on the Walrus and drink himself stupid. But that would be showing everyone that he <em>is</em> falling apart. </p>
<p>Is he falling apart? Is that what is happening to him? Is this what it is like to be unmade?</p>
<p>“What’s done is done,” Silver agrees with a nod, “so now I have to ask: are you going to do it again?” </p>
<p>“A man gets in my face talking about how English rule suited him much better, I will kill him,” Flint says. </p>
<p>“I think you’ve made that clear,” Silver agrees, “but can I ask that you think before you pull the trigger—”</p>
<p>“I didn’t want to hurt her,” Flint blurts out, and he’s surprised with his own confession. Silver falls silent. </p>
<p>Flint doesn’t want to speak, but he’s the one who brought this up. </p>
<p>“But I needed her to know what I am,” he says, “and… and I regret it.” </p>
<p>Silver’s expression is pained, “What’s done is done,” he repeats, “you cannot take this back.”</p>
<p>“I know,” Flint says, and his voice cracks. He pushes himself upright, away from the table. </p>
<p>“We can retreat to the Maroons, to give you some space,” Silver offers. </p>
<p>“I can’t run away,” Flint growls, “if I go now, I give them all power over me. They will all think me weak.”</p>
<p>Silver nods in agreement, “Is there no way to sever this tie you have to them?”</p>
<p>“I thought I’d done it,” Flint admits, “I thought if they could see— if they knew what I am— then I could finally bury it all.” </p>
<p>He takes a deep breath to steady himself, “have I done the right thing? Should I have— could I have had a chance?” </p>
<p>“My friend, we went in circles about this,” Silver says from his chair, “if there was a way for them to take you back, you gave up that path. We have to remember what is important. They will understand; when this war is over. They will see what you have done, and what you have sacrificed, for the good of everyone.” </p>
<p>“I want two impossible things,” Flint admits, “how can that be possible? I want them so badly that sometimes I think I can have them— freedom <em>and </em>love. And why can’t I have it?”</p>
<p>Why can’t he have it? He wants to beg for an answer, as if Silver could speak for the universe itself. Why can’t Flint be happy? </p>
<p>Silver wisely doesn’t answer. Because they both know the answer. Flint is an awful, vile creature. He is the inverse of love. </p>
<p>Because he picked up a sword, and set out to do violence to the world. To carve a better path for those who come after him. He wants to make the world Thomas believes in. And he is strong enough to bear the burden of what that costs. </p>
<p>Or so he thought. </p>
<p>“I am here with you,” Silver assures him, “Madi and I stand with you. We know you as you are. You can be loved as you are. If you want it.” </p>
<p>Flint takes him in, sitting across the table from him. His closest friend, after ten years of solitude. The one man who has known him as close as a man can know another. A man who has found love, amidst the pain of this war. </p>
<p>Silver doesn’t look away from his gaze. And just for a moment, Flint wonders at crossing the distance between them. Would it help him drive Thomas and Miranda from his heart? Would he ache for them more, if he tried to distract himself with someone else? How long would he be kept? So long as he was useful?</p>
<p>“What would you do if I let it all go?” Flint wonders. </p>
<p>“Which part?” Silver asks. </p>
<p>“The war,” Flint elaborates, “if I walked away. If I decided I did not want it.”</p>
<p>“There would be no war without you,” Silver says. He doesn’t sound defensive, like Madi might be. She burns with the same fire that Flint does, the same rage against the world and its injustice. Perhaps basking in her presence will stoke his fires. Maybe it is better to go to the Maroons to be inspired by her. </p>
<p>“No war,” Flint agrees.</p>
<p>He has worked ten long years to get this war, and now he thinks of throwing it all away. When they are on the edge of victory. The whole Caribbean could become free of colonial rule, a completely new concept to the world and to mankind. Flint could take them there. He would defend it until his dying breath. </p>
<p>He sees in his mind's eye: Miranda’s heartbroken expression when he openly defied her. It twists in his own heart worse than any wound he’s ever suffered. </p>
<p>“But I would have you,” Silver says gently, “our relationship is not governed by this war. Should it end, should you give it up, I would still have you.” </p>
<p>There is truth in that. It’s as visceral as a touch. Silver has seen him, has gone with him into the darkness, and Silver would have him as he is. </p>
<p>“Thank you,” Flint says, in lieu of anything better to say in response. There are no words for what that means to him. </p>
<p>It’s an unusually cool day on the island. Clouds still cover much of the sky. </p>
<p>“There’s a storm coming,” Silver remarks, and a breeze blows through them. </p>
<p>Flint thinks of the storm in his heart. How fitting, that the world continues to bend to him. If the storm is anything like his personal turmoil, then it could be the storm that breaks the island.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>[insert clapping emojis between every word] Charles Vane has a type!!!!!!!! And his type is 'nerds that get beat up on the playground' (see: Jack, Eleanor, and now Thomas)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Chapter 8</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Welcome to a DOOZY of a chapter, folks! Make sure you have time, and some tissues, because we're all gonna need a hug. </p><p>In researching this chapter <a href="https://www.cbsnews.com/news/old-shipwrecks-may-hold-clues-to-hurricanes-and-pirates/">I found one of the COOLEST articles</a>, that basically shows tree-ring patterns in wood used to make ships in ye pirate days, shows unusually low hurricane activity, which was due to abnormal sun activity, which may have been what led to the Golden Age of Piracy/Age of Sailing, because if less hurricanes = more time for safe sailing!! N E A T!!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s into the afternoon when Thomas spots James. </p><p>The school has been mostly quiet— the weather is poor and growing foul. Captain Vane and Thomas took a short break for lunch, in which Thomas checked in on Miranda. She assured him that she was fine, but her eyes were glossy and she declined joining him outside again. She’s hurt by James’ actions, more than Thomas knows how to comfort her at this time. Space, and a private place to compose herself, seem to be the best balm for her now.</p><p>She and Max seemed to be getting along well. </p><p>Captain Vane, watching the storm front roll in, informed Thomas that he needed to go see to his ship, and get it ready for the incoming weather. </p><p>The school has acquired some regular students, and even they had to dismiss themselves to return to duties. Thomas has never known much about sailing or ships at all. It would do him good to learn, considering that Nassau Town is dependent on the sea and the captains for its survival. </p><p>Rain starts shortly after lunch. With the tent up, Thomas stays relatively dry. Tropical rain is a marvel— it comes down so heavy and thunderous, nothing like the soothing mist of rain he grew up with. School is, considering he has no students at the moment, over for the day.</p><p>Thomas hopes to wait out the storm. It will be a long ride home if they have to ride in the rain. He begins packing up, and watching the waves in the bay pick up in intensity. Bella gets anxious and paws at the sand. Her ears are pressed back against her head. She must not like the rain. Thomas pauses in his packing to stroke her soft nose and calm her down. </p><p>And it’s at this time that he spies James. Returning on a small boat, from his own ship, with several crew members. They’ve been pushed off-course in the rough water, and James and another tall man jump from the front of the ship into the water to help drag the boat onto shore. They nearly get knocked over by the waves in the once-calm bay. Amongst the men on the boat, Thomas can see the dark hair of John Silver. </p><p>He feels somewhat like a man possessed, when he sees Silver and James step to the side while their men drag the boat out of the water and towards a line of trees in the sand. Thomas thinks on Silver’s threats, to cut James off from them, and to how Silver must have James’ ear so well that James cannot tell he’s being manipulated. It had become obvious in how James parroted Silver’s words this morning that James heeds Silver’s counsel. </p><p>James’ rejection of them may have been Silver’s doing all along. </p><p>But, also, Thomas thinks of Miranda. The love of his life has been hurt, and it is a husband’s duty to set that right. </p><p>The rain is surprisingly warm when he marches out into it. He’s soaked almost instantly. It’s like walking into a wall of water. A wind is picking up, driving the rain into unnatural angles. </p><p>James’ men lash their boat to a tree, a safe distance from the water. James and Silver have moved to join them. Thomas doesn’t think about having an audience, or how just this morning these same men restrained him from stopping James. </p><p>“James!” Thomas says, and finds that it’s hard for this voice to carry in the weather, “James!” </p><p>James and Silver stop their talking to greet him. Silver’s face darkens. A very tall man moves forwards to intercept Thomas, but a quick word from James has him step back and allow Thomas through. </p><p>“Go home,” James orders as a greeting, completely dismissive. </p><p>Thomas reaches them, and doesn’t give Silver the pleasure of being acknowledged, “We need to talk.” </p><p>James glances at Silver, briefly, before looking at Thomas. He doesn’t look Thomas in the eye, “There is nothing to say and a storm to deal with. Go home.” </p><p>“You hurt my wife,” Thomas accuses. And now James looks at him, for just a second, and Thomas repeats himself, “we need to talk.” </p><p>“The Captain is a busy man,” Silver interrupts, “as you can see, now is not the time—” </p><p>“He’ll make the time,” Thomas says firmly. </p><p>Silver’s mouth closes in surprise. Once again Silver looks at Thomas, and mentally recalculates what he must think of Thomas. Thomas is only vaguely aware of the rest of James’ men watching. </p><p>Thomas is aware of his reputation on the island, of being a weak man because he does not care for drinking and brawling. Because he’s educated, and would rather teach than hunt, the men here seem to think less of him. He wonders what they think of him now, demanding of Captain Flint like this.  </p><p>James has been silent while Silver and Thomas snap at one another. Rain drips off their faces. </p><p>“Leave us,” he orders Silver. </p><p>Silver turns his eyes on James, and there is some sort of silent communication that goes between the two of them. Thomas has heard the stories and comments of how the two of them are more like one mind in two bodies, how they are almost supernaturally connected. He hadn’t quite believed it, as he knew how James and Miranda could be when they were in tune with one another's' thoughts. This is… something entirely different. It’s eerie to see firsthand. </p><p>“We’re busy,” Silver insists to James. </p><p>“I’ll catch up,” James says, “go on.” </p><p>Silver bows to James’ command, and steps away from them. His eyes are dark when he sets his gaze on Thomas. Thomas refuses to bend for him. Silver takes the crew and leaves them. </p><p>“Make it quick. This isn’t a good time,” James insists. </p><p>“How could you?” Thomas demands. </p><p>James shakes his head, expression passive and uninterested. As if he doesn’t care for what he’s done to Miranda. He won’t look Thomas in the eye, “Your judgement means nothing. This is what I am. It’s time you learned that.” </p><p>“You hurt Miranda,” Thomas declares. </p><p>James’ mouth pinches into a tight line. </p><p>“She needed to understand—” </p><p>“You <em>know</em> that she loves you, and you hurt her for it!” Thomas knew he was angry, but he hadn’t known he was this furious. He steps forwards into James’ space now. James doesn’t flinch away. </p><p>James won’t look him in the eye as he says, “She needed to understand. You <em>both</em> need to understand that I’m—” </p><p>“You hurt her on purpose!” Thomas shouts, “you knew what this would do to her and you hurt her anyways! I thought better of you!”</p><p>James’ face darkens with anger, “Do you want me to beg for your forgiveness? The world is not as kind as you want it to be! You don’t like who I am? I am not asking you to! I am trying to make you understand that the man you knew is gone! Why can’t you see that?”</p><p>Thomas shakes his head, “No, no he’s not. <em>You’re</em> not. This— this Flint, he’s a mask you wear because you are ashamed to be seen like this. I know you, James. I know—”</p><p>“Ashamed?” and James laughs. On his face it looks more like a snarl, “I have achieved what no one thought possible! I saw our dream for Nassau come true. I made myself a legend! Tell me, where I should feel any shame in that?” </p><p>“My father? Peter?” Thomas asks. The words are out of his mouth before he can stop himself. Is James proud of that? Of killing Thomas’ family, and their friend? </p><p>“Peter betrayed us. Your father killed you,” James growls, looking away again, “I brought justice.”</p><p>No, he does not feel any shame for those killings. In his mind they were justified. </p><p>The rage is still in Thomas’ blood, but he feels strangely exhausted. Looking at James, imagining him alone, hearing of their supposed deaths and seeking vengeance. To try and have some closure for the pain he must have felt. </p><p>“Why do you deny that you care for us?” Thomas begs, “James it’s so obvious that you do—”</p><p>“Because I’m not the man you knew. It hurts now, but it’s better than us pretending you won’t come to resent me when you understand that,” James says. </p><p>It becomes clear to Thomas suddenly. Rejection now, at the onset, rather than risk affection deepening and then going sour. James fears their rejection more than anything. He fears it so much that he would rather hide away, and never have their company in the first place.</p><p>“Wouldn’t it have been nice to have that conversation together?” Thomas asks, and his gentle tone makes James look up at him with an open expression, “you have versions of us in your mind that you talk to, to come to these conclusions. You claim that you are not who you were, but neither are we. I would like a voice in the decisions that affect all of us.”</p><p>“Why?” James snaps, and he rocks back on his heels, “Thomas I killed your father. There can <em>never</em> be a happy ending for our story.”</p><p>“But you want one,” Thomas says, and steps forwards to follow James’ retreat, “you want it badly. So badly that your man Silver had to go behind your back to threaten me to stay away from you because he knows you can’t let us go.” </p><p>James goes silent, his face carefully neutral. </p><p>“Silver threatened you?” James asks. </p><p>“He’s afraid of losing you,” Thomas confirms. </p><p>Like a banshee, out of the darkening sky itself, a large gust of wind screams onto the shore. It nearly knocks Thomas off his feet. </p><p>James curses, and turns to look out over the bay. The waves are growing higher, crashing further onto the sand. Crew from other ships are still trying to make it back to shore in their small boats, and being thrown around. </p><p>“Go home,” James orders, and he has to shout above the wind to be heard. </p><p>He leaves Thomas, running for his crew. The weather has changed, Thomas can sense that much. It’s made a turn for the worse. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“We’re evacuating to the fort,” Silver reports when Flint catches up to him. </p><p>Surprise must show on his face, because Silver adds, “Max must have talked Vane into some kind of deal, but yes, we’re all welcome.” </p><p>Nassau Town is busy with people packing their belongings, and securing anything they can’t carry. Nervous chickens run between feet; the roads are turning to mud in the rain. </p><p>“We think the storm will be that bad?” Flint asks, and looks back at the water. The ships in the bay are rocking with the wind. All of their sails have been taken in, their anchors put far enough apart that hopefully they don’t crash into one another. Nassau has weathered storms before. </p><p>This one did come on quite quickly. Flint can feel it, in his gut, that this is a dangerous storm. He’s been unsure if the unease is from the storm, or from the people around him.</p><p>“It could be a hurricane,” he agrees before Silver can answer, “the fort will be the safest place to be.”</p><p>“Or inland,” Silver says, bluntly. Inland where Thomas and Miranda have made a home. </p><p>It crosses Flint’s mind that they likely have not endured a storm like this before. Will they be safe? Will they know what to expect? Will they make it home in this weather? </p><p>“Are you alright?” Silver asks. </p><p>“Let’s get to the fort first,” Flint orders, “keep your guard up. People go mad in a storm like this.” </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Vane generously gives Flint his own room, out of respect, he says. There’s only one door in, and it feels like a prison cell, so Flint avoids it for now.  It’s dry in here, at least, and that’s a relief to be out of the weather. </p><p>Silver stays close to him. The fort is packed with most of Nassau Town, and their belongings. Vane and his crew have a challenge on their hands to keep everyone organized. Flint takes up a position in the keep, surrounded by many people, but with his back to a wall and an eye on enough entrances to know if anyone is coming for him.</p><p>“What did Thomas say?” Silver asks.</p><p>There’s beer and rum being shared around. People are starting to sing together. It’s almost merry, in contrast to the sound of the wind outside. </p><p>Flint looks at him. Silver is looking away, playing at nonchalance. He has his hair tied back, to keep it out of his face. He’s removed his wet coat, and looks smaller in just a damp shirt. </p><p>Flint trusts him with his life. He trusts him with the future of Nassau, with his dreams. He entrusted Silver with the secrets of who he is, of what made him. </p><p>Has Silver used that to betray him? </p><p>“When did you talk to Thomas?” Flint asks. </p><p>Silver shrugs, “I don’t think I’ve had the pleasure—”</p><p>“You threatened him,” Flint says, “behind my back.” </p><p>Silver looks up at him, at the sound of Flint’s tone.</p><p>“I was working towards the goal you and I agreed upon,” Silver insists. </p><p>“You threatened him?” Flint asks. </p><p>Silver shakes his head, “I would never move against them. I told Thomas that. I know what they mean to you, you can trust that. You can trust me.”</p><p>“Can I?” Flint remarks, “why is it that you want me to be unhappy?” </p><p>Silver looks dumbfounded. Flint can’t be sure his emotions are genuine.</p><p>“Unhappy? Never,” Silver says, “I have always supported you in search of your goals. You told <em>me</em> you wanted to break from— from them, for a better future!” </p><p>“Because <em>you </em>insisted there would never be happiness in that story,” Flint hisses. </p><p>“I don’t know what he said, but I am not playing any games with you,” Silver pleads, “I have always been your friend.” </p><p>“That much is true,” Flint says, and leans back against the wall, “but I think you hear my thoughts, and you support ones that serve you.” </p><p>“If it is them you want, you know what will happen,” Silver presses. He pauses to glance around, to see if anyone has noticed their fight, “we will lose the war. These ten years you have sacrificed? They will have meant nothing. You can go to them, you can try with them, but you will lose everything.” </p><p>Flint groans, shaking his head, “That’s it! There! You press on these fears like they are yours, but you have never cared for this war like I have.”</p><p>Silver hesitates a moment before shaking his head, “No. This war means nothing to me if it ends tomorrow.” </p><p>“So why?” Flint asks, “why bother making me fear it? Why equate that pain with something I want?” </p><p>“It’s not my war,” Silver insists, “but it has an impact on the people I care for.” </p><p>Ah, there it is. </p><p>“Madi fears the end of the war, with the return of— of them,” Flint says carefully. Which means she must know who the Hamilton’s are to him, which means Silver shared his story with her. Flint finds he’s not mad about that. </p><p>“Madi will be upset, but she will survive the end,” Silver says, “but she is not the only one I’m trying to protect.” </p><p><em>I would still have you</em>. The words weigh heavy on Flint’s mind. </p><p>“I don’t know what the end of things would bring us,” Silver confesses, “what it will do to us.” </p><p>A terrifying thought. Flint doesn’t know what it will do to him either. He became Flint to fight his war, to get his vengeance. To give it all up? What will he become? If he removes the disguise, discards Flint like an old coat, what is left? James McGraw? He doesn’t think he can be that man either. The stench of Flint has seeped into everything. </p><p>“I have felt like I’ve been pulled in several directions at once,” Flint says, “I thought it was my fault, my weakness. Now I can see the forces conspiring against me.” </p><p>“I do not conspire against you!” Silver shouts. Too loudly. Heads turn towards them. </p><p>Silver bows his head, tightens his grip on his cane. He composes himself. </p><p>“I don’t think you meant to,” Flint agrees, “but you’re too smart to not fight for the things you want.” </p><p>It’s aggressive, presuming Silver’s emotions like this. Especially when neither of them has been honest about it. This morning was the most honest Flint has ever seen Silver.</p><p>“I want you to be happy,” Silver lies, “whatever that means for you.”</p><p>Flint shakes his head slowly in response. <em>He’s afraid of losing you</em>, Thomas said. Flint was too close to have seen Silver’s exposed heart, until now. Now he can’t believe he didn’t see it before. </p><p>Silver curses, and steps closer, “Fine! If you don't want to be here, go to them! Try it! If they are what you want, why are you here? Run to them, settle with them. Find this happy ending that you want so badly. You and I both know you will regret it for the rest of your life. You will sit on that fucking porch, an old man, and you will think on the days you almost achieved your dreams, and that you cast it all aside. You’ll be lucky if they keep you longer than a year. When they see the darkness in you— they won’t understand. Not like I can! Not like I do.” </p><p>They’re in each others’ faces now. It’s likely they’ve drawn attention. Flint is known to have a temper, but rarely with his quartermaster. Especially like this. He gives Silver the respect of his full attention.</p><p>“Thomas wants to talk,” Flint explains, “you and I have made several assumptions of their thoughts. He asked only for the chance to speak for himself.”</p><p>“Will <em>she</em> even listen to you now? After this morning?” Silver sneers, “what’s the point in talking when you have made your point clear?” </p><p>Like a mantle on his shoulders, the truth comes to Flint like a comfort. </p><p>“I need to apologize,” he realizes. </p><p>That surprises Silver, “You don’t— that’s not in your nature—” </p><p>“I’ve been listening to many opinions on myself,” Flint says, “it’s time I listen to myself.” </p><p>“You’re not thinking clearly,” Silver pleads, “you need to trust me through this.” </p><p>“And we both know where your direction will take me,” Flint says. </p><p>“If it is a quiet home you want, I can make that happen,” Silver insists. </p><p>Flint is sure he could. He can almost see it. Would they settle with the Maroons? Would they keep the Walrus, or relinquish her to a new Captain? Would they disappear from Nassau’s story entirely? Would they be happy?</p><p>“I’m going to talk to them,” Flint promises. </p><p>“Fine,” Silver relents, and steps back, heartbroken, “fine. And when you see that I am right, that you cannot have happiness with them, like the fucking fool I am: I will still have you.”</p><p>“I know,” Flint whispers. </p><p>He walks away from Silver, unable to look back at him for fear of losing his resolve if he does. He’s full of half-formed thoughts, lost in a daze. He’s striking out on his own, trying to find a path when everyone around him tries to pull him in different directions. </p><p>He finds a horse in the fort stables, and rides out into the storm. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>"It's a hurricane," Vane growls, looking out the fort window at the rain. It hits the glass so heavily that it's like peering through a wall of water. It feels rather isolating, to look out, and not see any lights on the island. Nassau is dark, all of her people evacuated to the high ground of the fort or further inland. Somewhere, in the dark, the ships writhe in the water and the tide creeps closer and closer to Nassau Town. </p><p>Jack scoffs, sprawled across one of the couches in the room, "It's not a hurricane, we haven't had one of those in…" his rum sloshes in his glass, "in a long time," Jack finishes.</p><p>"It's a fucking hurricane," Vane turns on his heel, daring Jack to retort.</p><p>"The surge could sink the town," Anne comments. She's sitting on the floor in front of Max so Max can redo her braids.</p><p>Vane leaves the window to join them. He knocks Jack’s feet down to sit down on the couch in their absence. </p><p>“I hope not,” Max growls, and glares out the window as if she could turn the storm around herself, “that would set us back if we had to rebuild.” </p><p>“We’ll find out the damage when the hurricane passes,” Vane says.</p><p>“It’s just a storm,” Jack reminds him. Vane scowls at him. </p><p>“I hope it passes soon,” Anne says, “cause if I gotta be stuck in here for much longer with you assholes I might kill you myself.” </p><p>Vane turns his frown on her. Jack picks up his feet and sets them in Vane’s lap.</p><p>“Darling we’re fearsome pirate captains. You should be <em>terrified</em> to be locked in a room with us.”</p><p>He lifts his glass to drink more, only to discover he’s already finished his rum. </p><p>“You drunk?” Vane grunts. </p><p>Jack winks at him. </p><p>“Not much else to do,” Max agrees. </p><p>“See? I’m always right,” Jack insists. </p><p>“Stuck in a hurricane with you fucks,” Vane grumbles, and he pushes Jack’s feet off of him to stand, and to go to the cabinet in the room where Hornigold left a bottle of what Vane assumes is good scotch. </p><p>He pops the bottle with mild amusement to how Hornigold must have saved this for special occasions only, considering it a symbol of class and his status above the rest of them in Nassau. He drinks right from the bottle. </p><p>“Let’s get drunk!” Vane announces. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The rain is falling sideways with how strong the wind hits the shore. Flint urges the horse to move as quickly as it can, but in the mud and poor visibility it’s not fast enough. </p><p>He comes upon Thomas and Miranda suddenly. The cart wheels have gotten stuck in the mud. Miranda is urging the horse forwards, guiding it from the head, while Thomas pushes the cart from behind. </p><p>Flint’s boots hit the mud before his horse has stopped running. With the noise of the wind and rain, they haven’t noticed his approach until he’s beside Thomas. Thomas’ eyes go wide with shock, but there’s no time for talk as Flint braces himself against the cart. They heave together to push the cart forwards. Flint’s boots slide in the mud, unable to get a good purchase. He grits his teeth and strains harder, to no avail. </p><p>They dig out the wheels, before they try to push again. His horse is skittish, but stays close by. They are all soaked to the bone, and even with the humidity of the area, the storm has grown cold. Miranda’s hands tremble where she holds the horses’ lead. He’s soaked as well, but Flint takes a moment to strip off his jacket, and tosses it to Miranda. It’s better than nothing, at least. Flint doesn’t stop to talk to Miranda, or say anything further to Thomas. His hands grow numb as he digs and pushes. </p><p>And little by little, the cart rolls forwards, and they get it moving. They stop a few lengths away for Thomas and Miranda to get back onto the cart. Flint mounts his horse and rides beside them.</p><p>There’s no time to talk. The storm grows worse. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Miranda goes indoors to start a fire inside and get out of the rain. Thomas and Flint see to unhitching the cart and putting the horses in the stable. They work in silence, brushing the horses down and drying them off. The walls shake with the force of the wind, and already a few leaks have sprung. The horses are happier to be out of the weather, and once they are settled in with water and some food, Flint and Thomas make the run for the house. </p><p>Miranda has a fire started, though the wind that keeps running down the chimney threatens to blow it out. It makes a guttural, moaning noise that makes the hair on the back of Flint’s neck stand up. </p><p>She’s changed into dry clothes— a night gown with a shawl for warmth. It would be indecent in proper company. Flint averts his eyes to show some respect.   </p><p>Thomas starts stripping out of his wet clothes, rather than spread the water through the house. Flint hesitates. He’d come after them, to see them home safely, and only now does it sink in what he’s done. He’s alone here, with them. He doesn’t have anything dry to wear, but his clothes should dry quickly enough. </p><p>“I have some extra clothes you can borrow,” Thomas says, “you, uh, I think you’re slimmer than me, so they should fit just fine.” </p><p>They’ve been working in silence until now, and his voice drags Flint into the present. Thomas is already half undressed, and Flint finds his words catch in his throat at the sight of him. He— he hasn’t looked at anyone like this in a long time. His heart beats faster at the sight of Thomas’ skin. </p><p>Flint has long since lost any sense of modesty— living on ships does that to you, and it was only societal customs that kept him in check back in London. For the first time he feels aware of the scars he carries on his body, and for the first time he can feel the weight of being watched. Would Thomas look at him, with heat, while Flint undresses? Would he be repulsed?</p><p>He looks away as Thomas finishes undressing, and Miranda hands off dry clothes. She fetches some for him, too. They don’t speak. Flint strips quickly, and gets dressed just as fast. He feels removed from himself, in another mans clothes.</p><p>“Thank you for the help,” Miranda says, breaking the silence. </p><p>Flint nods slowly. How to start this? Where to begin? Can he even explain himself? It feels too real, his conversations with Silver. How this will all end in misery for them. Of the pain Flint will feel, when Thomas and Miranda grow to hate him. Has he made that a reality already? Silver once said that Flint was the cause of all of his own tragedies. Maybe it’s true. Has he created his own misfortune? He feared losing Thomas and Miranda so greatly that he’s brought his fear to life. </p><p>“I— I was worried,” Flint says. </p><p>He glances up, sees the anger on her face. It humbles him. </p><p>“I’m sure you were,” she snaps, and then turns on her heel and leaves the room. The door to the bedroom door closes loudly. He deserves that. </p><p>Thomas stands in the room with him. The way they are positioned puts Thomas in front of the hall like a guardian. Flint stays across the room from him. </p><p>“I am— I’m grateful for the help,” Thomas assures him, but he fixes Flint with a curious look that Flint is wary to meet, “but why did you come? Shouldn’t you be with your men?” </p><p>He’s asking about Silver. </p><p>Silver’s heartbroken expression sits heavy in Flint’s mind. His confession today. <em>I would have you</em>. Flint feels like he’s standing at a crossroads, with his path diverging in two very different directions. He has to pick one. He supposes he has.</p><p>“I hadn’t known that Silver threatened you,” Flint says, “you’re right. He feels threatened by you, and Miranda. I can understand why. I— I’m close with him.”</p><p>“I guessed,” Thomas says plainly, “I asked him if he was in love with you.” </p><p>Flint feels his heart tighten. Does he want the answer to that? He feels he already does. </p><p>“He evaded the question,” Thomas gives him. </p><p>That sounds like Silver. </p><p>“I trusted— I do trust him. He has been my closest friend since— in a long time,” Flint says, “but it gave him the ability to manipulate me.”</p><p>Thomas shakes his head, “You say that like it was some evil thing he did.” </p><p>“He turned me against you,” Flint points out. </p><p>“Did he? Or did he just echo what you yourself think?” Thomas asks, “he was a man terrified of losing someone important to him. He could have done anything to keep you, and yet, he tried to make this as painless as possible for you.” </p><p>“It has not been painless,” Flint argues. </p><p>Thomas glances pointedly down the hall to where Miranda has barricaded herself in her room, “No. No it has not,” he agrees. </p><p>They sit in silence. The fire builds, giving some warmth to the home, and it nearly goes out as the wind howls. </p><p>“You were right,” Flint finally says, breaking the silence. No point in delaying the inevitable. This is what he came for. </p><p>“I rarely get to hear that,” Thomas says with a weak smile. It’s meant as a joke. Back in London, James and Miranda would always drag Thomas’ ideas back down to earth, telling him he was dreaming too deeply. </p><p>“We— we need to talk. The three of us,” Flint says, and he glances towards the hall. He has his back to the wall, across the room from Thomas. </p><p>“Yes,” Thomas agrees, “but, in fact, I think you and I should talk first.” </p><p>Thomas’ anger for Miranda’s pain is fresh in Flint’s mind. He’s ready to be chastised again. He deserves it, to hear of how careless and reckless he’d been. How cruel he’d been, in trying to hurt the both of them so they would leave him alone. </p><p>He’s a dog biting the hand that feeds it. Best to be put down. </p><p>“You killed my father,” Thomas says into the space between them. </p><p>Flint stands tall, and breathes deeply. </p><p>“Yes,” he says. </p><p>“You don’t regret it?” Thomas asks. </p><p>Flint keeps dreaming of scenarios where the three of them could be happy. Sometimes he thinks it could happen. But this fact is a thorn in his side, a blight on his dreams. His rage and need for vengeance has been his undoing after all. </p><p>“No,” Flint says, “I told you on the beach. It was justice for what he’d done to you and Miranda.”</p><p>Thomas nods, quiet and contemplative. He moves towards Flint, slowly. Flint braces for a hit. Thomas is not a violent man, not in the way Flint is, but there is a point in which all men must resort to base nature. This would be that kind of moment. </p><p>He promises himself to not fight back, no matter how brutal the beating.</p><p>Thomas leans back against the table, putting himself only a few feet from Flint. Flint doesn’t insult him by looking ashamed. He said he wasn’t. </p><p>“I don’t regret it. But I am sorry for the pain it causes you now,” Flint says. </p><p>Thomas looks sad. Pained. Once upon a time Flint would have been able to cross the short distance between them and comfort him. Now he is the cause of that pain. </p><p>Thomas speaks, and Flint braces for the insults he deserves, “I think to myself: what kind of man forgives the man who killed his father? And my philosophical answer is: a brave man. To overcome the need for revenge. And then I ask myself: well, what kind of man <em>loves </em>the man who killed his family? His friends? And I want to say, someone admiral, but truthfully all I think is that it is someone foolish. Someone who will be hurt, who wants to be hurt. I don’t know what to make of someone like that.” </p><p>Thomas leans back on his hands. Flint keeps his hands clasped together behind his back. This way Thomas can’t see how his knuckles are white from his tight grip. </p><p>“And I think of many different things: is my loyalty to my family? In that I should reject you? Is my loyalty to the man you were, who I loved? Is my loyalty to me, and seeking a future away from such heavy emotional burdens? And I go in circles, driving myself mad, trying to come up with an answer. And then I realize one very simple truth: I love you.”</p><p>Flint feels the words like a blow, and he exhales heavily. He’s unable to speak, not while Thomas is still speaking. </p><p>“I have loved you for years, even in your absence, and I love you now. It took Silver’s threats to make that apparent for me. Regardless of everything, I love you. And if I hold on to that truth, then perhaps the rest will find a way to sort itself out.” </p><p>“No,” Flint shakes his head, “you can’t— it will catch up to you. You’ll resent me.” </p><p>“I resented you for dying,” Thomas admits, “I was so angry that you were gone, that I often wondered if you had thrown yourself to the sea, rather than live after what had been done to you. And I was so angry that you wouldn’t hold out, that you wouldn’t wait for us to find you. Because we were going to come for you. We were.” </p><p>“You didn’t,” Flint says, “I saved myself. And who I am is not deserving of your love anymore.”</p><p>“You don’t get to decide that!” Thomas snaps, and Flint’s shoulders straighten at the tone. He wants to flinch away when Thomas looks him in the eye, but he holds himself still as Thomas speaks, “my love is mine to give. And here I am, James. I’m telling you that you have it. I love you.”</p><p>“You can’t,” Flint pleads, “he was your father—”</p><p>“My father was an awful man,” Thomas says, “he was my father, and he used that position to control and belittle me all my life. It’s been years, and I would like to stop letting him dictate what I can and cannot do.”</p><p>Thomas’ eyes are wet, and Flint finds he’s in a similar state. </p><p>“I don’t understand you,” Flint confesses, and he shakes his head, “I don’t think I will <em>ever</em> understand you.” </p><p>It’s only the movement of his head that allows him to spy Miranda lurking in the edge of the room. Thomas sees his shock, and looks over his shoulder. </p><p>“We are having words, love,” he calls to her, “and a conversation about the future. I would like if you joined. If you’re ready.” </p><p>If he wasn’t so in love with her, the tone could be patronizing. Flint sees Miranda scowl at Thomas, but she can’t help but smile as he smiles at her. </p><p>Her expression when she looks at Flint is furious. </p><p>When she stands beside Thomas, Flint realizes he has been cornered. They stand between him and the door, and he wonders if this was done intentionally. </p><p>“I should hit you,” Miranda says. </p><p>“You could,” Flint allows her. </p><p>A heavy silence comes between the three of them. Where to begin? Flint has done nothing but hurt them both. Perhaps this is the sign that he cannot do anything but hurt, that his soul was not made for soft things and loving.  </p><p>He has to speak. It’s possibly the hardest thing he’s ever done. Can any words explain his remorse? Give him any forgiveness for hurting her? </p><p>“Okay,” he says softly.</p><p>His knees aren’t what they used to be, and it takes him a moment to kneel to her. He feels humbled, and defenseless. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” Flint says to Miranda, and like a dam bursting the words begin to flow quickly, one after another, “I’m so sorry. I hurt you, I did it on purpose. And I don’t know what to do. I— I have never stopped loving you, either of you. I loved you and wanted to die with you, I fought this war for you, I changed the world for you. But I— I think I don’t know how to love anymore. All I can do is hurt you. I am a shadow on your doorstep, and I cannot keep myself away. I’m weak for you.” </p><p>“What are you saying?” Miranda asks. </p><p>“You must turn me away,” Flint begs, and that feels true, as he says it. It must be right, “if you cast me out, if I hear it from you, then I can obey that. I can stay away, and let you have peace.” </p><p>“James,” Thomas says, an exhale that sounds like a scolding. </p><p>“I’m sorry I love you,” Flint confesses, “I’m sorry that I am the monster your love made. You deserve someone better—”</p><p>“James,” Miranda cuts him off. He looks to her, waiting for her words. </p><p>“You loved us this deeply?” she asks, “this long?”</p><p>He nods, afraid of what else he will say if he opens his mouth again. </p><p>“We had each other,” Miranda says, and she steps forwards, “who did you have?” </p><p>There’s more to her question. He must have had friends, lovers, company. No one loves people so strongly that they would isolate themselves in longing for them. No one would go ten years grieving dead lovers, unwilling to move on. </p><p>She crouches before him, eye to eye. They have always understood each other, like no one else. </p><p>His voice cracks as he confesses, “There was no one.” No one who could compare. No one he was willing to love as he loved the Hamilton’s. He buried his heart with them. </p><p>Miranda’s eyes are wet now, and she looks devastated, “That must be lonely.”</p><p>He clenches his teeth, unable to speak for the sob that latches in his throat. </p><p>Miranda brings her hands up to touch his face, and he trembles at her touch. </p><p>“I don’t want you to be alone anymore,” she whispers. </p><p>She draws him in as much as he falls into her. She’s warm, a solid body as he wraps his arms around her. His woman, his Miranda. Her hair is still wet, her face still flushed from the storm outside. James buries his face in her neck, curls his fingers in her clothes, and feels her breathe with him. He’s crying, openly. She’s in his arms. He’s holding her again, as he’s dreamed of doing for ten long years. As he thought he never would hold her again. An ache deep in his soul, a loneliness he’s carried for so long he has grown accustomed to living in pain, begins to ease. </p><p>“Come on. We can move somewhere more comfortable,” Thomas insists, standing above them. </p><p>James finds himself unable to let Miranda go. He clings to her like a lifeline. </p><p>She pulls back enough to kiss his temple, and leans away in surprise. He’s forced to sit back on his heels.</p><p>“You’re growing your hair out,” she comments. </p><p>James tries to smile, “You didn’t like the shave,” he reminds her. </p><p>It was one of the first things she said to him, at their reunion. He’ll do anything to please her, to have her favour. </p><p>She hears the confession, and it’s the straw that finally breaks her composure. Now they’re both on the floor and crying. </p><p>“Come on,” Thomas says again, and he struggles to get either of them to stand with the way they refuse to let each other go. </p><p>Thomas’ hands are broad, stronger than one would expect. Between the three of them, they get to their feet like some strange creature with three heads. For all that Thomas tries to move them, James holds to him just as tightly. The weight of this man, <em>his</em> man, against him. James hasn’t been held in ten years. He hasn’t held anyone in ten years. </p><p>The hurricane rages outside. </p><p>In James’ heart, for the first time in a long time, the storm is quiet. </p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>Max nearly stumbles on her walk back from the door. Jack and Anne burst into laughter. </p><p>“Shush!” Max orders, “I am not drunk! I do not— I am a lady. I do not fall down!”</p><p>“You’re drunk,” Jack declares. At one point in the night he sat upright, but has since fallen sideways to throw his legs over the edge of the chair, with his head propped in an uncomfortable angle against Vane’s hip. </p><p>“What did Isabelle want?” Vane asks. It is his fort; he has a right to know if there’s problems. </p><p>“It is fine,” Max shakes her head, “it is— gossip. About your Professor.” </p><p>Vane would sooner kill anyone who would think he would own another man in bondage. But he thinks Max is joking with him. He doesn’t like it.</p><p>“What about him?” he demands, “he hurt? Did something stupid?”</p><p>“He attacked Flint,” Max says. </p><p>Everyone in the room groans. Vane curses. He left the Professor alone once, and he went and did the one thing Vane told him not to do. </p><p>“Aww fuck, he’s dead, isn’t he?” Anne sighs, “was it— did he do it downstairs?”</p><p>Max shakes her head, “No, no. He— right in front of Flint’s crew. He made Flint order them away, and then he proceeded to argue, quite passionately, with Flint.” </p><p>“And <em>then </em>Flint killed him,” Jack finishes. </p><p>“He didn’t kill him,” Vane realizes, “that’s why it’s news. The Professor just scolded Captain Flint, and walked away unharmed.” </p><p>“Nah,” Anne scoffs. Her nose wrinkles in disbelief, “no fucking way Flint would let that happen.” </p><p>“He would if it was about the affair,” Max says, and then covers her mouth in surprise when she realizes what she said. </p><p>“This is why I should not be drinking,” she insists, “it makes me stupid.”</p><p>“You said you weren’t drunk,” Jack reminds her, “now say that information again. You— you spent all day with the Professor’s wife? What did you learn? Are we correct about the affair?”</p><p>“Does Flint have a dick?” Anne demands. </p><p>Vane chokes on his drink in surprise, and Jack groans loudly. </p><p>Max pinches her mouth tight, until Anne trails her fingers down Max’s shoulder.</p><p>“Alright,” she relents, “Flint and Miranda had an affair. They were discovered, and that’s when they all left London, never to see one another again.”</p><p>Jack laughs out loud at that. Vane can’t blame him. That’s a lie, because there’s an obvious truth missing. </p><p>Jack explains the joke, “Flint came to Nassau because of his dead friend— the one he started this war over. You know, the one he never shuts up about, who got him arrested or whatever.”</p><p>“Well maybe the affair is why the Professor and Lady McGraw left,” Max shrugs, “and Flint left later, after his other friend died.”</p><p>“Weird to think of Flint having a friend, let alone two,” Anne remarks.</p><p>Jack chuckles, “Right? Now, what was his name again? The dead one? He never stops talking about him, and yet I can’t remember his name…”</p><p>“The friend?” Vane asks. </p><p>“Yes, the dead one,” Jack says, “well, the one who’s actually dead. Not pretend dead, like the Professor is.”</p><p>“Hamilton,” Vane supplies.</p><p>“Yes! That’s the one!” Jack says, and he sits up enough to hold his glass out for a toast, "To the man who blessed us with the devil himself. May your death continue to be martyred for a tyrant’s ego. To… to… T-something— Teddy… Tod— Thomas! That’s him, yes, to Thomas—”</p><p>Silence descends on the room. </p><p>Vane doesn’t lift his glass. None of them do. </p><p>Anne speaks slowly as she says, “Weird… to think of Flint having <em>two</em> friends named Thomas.”</p><p>“Who his falling out with, resulted in him leaving Nassau,” Max says in surprise. </p><p>Jack, always quick on the draw, speaks the thought just as Vane sees the clear picture.</p><p>“They’re the same person,” Jack realizes. </p><p>Thomas Hamilton isn’t dead. He’s been alive this whole time. The war Flint rallied them for, the war they bled and died for, the war that shaped history… is based on a lie. </p><p>Anne snarls as she yells, “People died for this! How many people did Flint kill- and his friend wasn't even dead! Now he's come here after the fighting is done!"</p><p>“McGraw!” Jack shouts, and he tries to sit upright but can’t get his arms under him. He ends up half in Vane’s lap, “I’ve heard the name— the Governor, with his pardons and meetings and signing of everything—”</p><p>“Get to it!” Max snaps. </p><p>“Flint!” Jack says, “we all know it’s a fake name, but it— that’s his real name. Woodes Rogers had accounts of him by that name. James McGraw.”</p><p>“Why the <em>fuck</em> would you take on the name of your spouses’ affair?” Anne demands, “that’s twisted.” </p><p>Max shakes her head, “I do not know what this means—”</p><p>“It means Flint’s been lying to us. For ten fucking years he’s been lying, and who else knows what else he’s done. But I can tell you one thing: I'm going to kill him," Vane promises, "the next time I see Flint, I'm going to shoot him through the heart."</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>If you hadn't picked up on it already, I've been writing Flint/James as someone who has been emotionally and physically isolated from people for like 10 years. He doesn't touch people, doesn't reach out to them. The closest he gets is an occasional Gentle Shoulder Touch with Silver, who is the first true friend he's had in all this time. Must be a shock to the system, trying to relearn how to love, and how to be loved. And to be hugged!! ;_; </p><p>I think we have one more chapter and an epilogue to go, but we'll see! Thanks for all the support &lt;33</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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